Battle Royale: Kinnsington High School
by Fenrir146
Summary: What was supposed to be an end of year trip turned into a three day nightmare for the students of Kinnsington High School as they were thrown into the Battle Royale. Battle Royale with original characters.
1. Kinnsington High School

Disclaimer:

I do not own the rights to, nor did I originally write, Battle Royale. Nor do I own any of the Movies, TV shows, Music or other products that may be referenced in this story. All of the characters seen in this story are of original creation; made either by me, or by others and used with their permission.

This story is rated M due to its graphic content, including scenes involving violence, strong language, sexual themes and others. If you are not comfortable with any of these then I advise that you do not read on and if you do and are offended then don't blame me because I did warn you.

****

'Welcome, boys and girls, welcome, to the first ever Battle Royale competition. You lucky few have been chosen to take part in an event like no other, an event that will forever go down in history; hell, a few of you might even become famous. But, I'm getting ahead of myself; I suppose I'd better explain the rules to you before anything else.

'The rules of this Battle Royale are simple; there is only one way to win, you must kill; you must kill your classmates, kill every last person you see in this room with you now, except me of course, kill until you are the last person left. Then, and only then, will you be declared the winner, and then, and only then, will you be allowed to leave'

The man laid down the script on his desk with a sigh, before returning to pacing around the room; it was a rough draft for now but it would do. The Battle Royale was the perfect social experiment, you take a group of people, in this case High School students, place them all on a deserted island and tell them to kill each other or face death; it's amazing how quickly some people abandoned such things as friendship and morals in a situation like that. Cover the whole island with cameras and microphones and you've got a pretty good show as well.

A simple premise but one that required perfect execution. He raised his head as one of his subordinates walked in holding a clipboard.

"Are the preparations ready yet?"

"Almost, just bringing the last of the cameras online"

"Did you manage to get complete coverage? I don't want to miss anything"

"We've got cameras in all the buildings and most of the surrounding forest; there are a few blind spots but less than we actually expected. There are microphones in all the cameras and smaller ones in the collars as well, we should be able to hear anything they say. Preparations for the broadcast are ready as well; all the major channels will be taken over by our signal"

"Good, I don't want any mistakes this time. What about preparations for the capture?"

"Everything's in place. The "fieldtrip" has been organised, we've invited all the students, rigged the bus and bribed the driver"

"Which school did we end up choosing anyway?"

"Kinnsington High School"

****

Mr Edwards stood at the head of the large group of students, counting heads and preparing to tick off their names as they moved past him into the coach behind him. It had taken a year of countless school spirited events; bake sales, fundraisers and various others, but the sophomore class of Kinnsington High School had managed to raise enough money to fund their end of year, all expense paid trip. Most of the money had been spent just hiring coaches big enough to carry the one hundred and fifty plus students attending the trip; all of which now had to be accounted for and crossed off of the clipboard he now held before they could even leave. It was just another piece of useless paper work as far as he was concerned but it at least gave him a chance to see who exactly he would have to look after on the coach ride and which ones he would have to keep an eye on.

He began letting the students board the bus as the driver opened up the automatic doors, ticking off their names absentmindedly as he thought about the group. The football players were an obvious source of trouble; Vince Sullivan, Adrian Starr and Derrick Hudson. They were well behaved most of the time, barring the occasional prank or fight, but put a group of jocks like that in a confined space for a prolonged period of time and they'll get restless.

Next to board the bus were the outcasts, though how they could call themselves outcasts when there were a group of them he didn't know. The Goth's Chael and Trina along with the surfer Elliot certainly made up an interesting group with an eclectic group of personalities and interests. You could find at least one of them at the centre of every fight or disturbance in the school; never enough to get them in real trouble but enough to attract negative attention from the teachers. Mr Edwards held out his arm to stop them before they got onto the bus, looking a Chael in particular when he spoke.

"Mr Tovaras, mind opening up your jacket for me?" Chael let out a resigned sigh before complying, allowing Edwards to remove the cigarettes from his inside pocket. "There is no smoking allowed on this bus; I'll leave you your lighter as long as you promise not to set fire to anything like last time. Do I need to search you as well Mr Starlin" Elliot turned to Edwards with an attempt at an innocent expression.

"Nah, trying to cut back you know?"

The group moved past him to take their seats, soon followed by Kevin Landers. Another jock from the football team, though markedly more well behaved seeing as how he spent more time with Samantha, his girlfriend from the track team, who was currently by his side, as opposed to with the rest of the team.

Next to join those already on the bus were Jennifer and her followers; there was one group like them in every school, the popular girls. Edwards couldn't help but sigh as he ticked off their names and let them onto the bus; if it were up to him he wouldn't have let them on the trip, he really didn't want the headache that having students like that around brought. Still, there was nothing he could do about it.

Distracted, Mr Edwards almost would have missed the next set of students if they weren't so distinct in appearance. Throwing out his arm once more he stopped the student from entering.

"Now, I hope you're not going to cause any trouble on this trip Gerald? It would be a shame for someone to ruin it for everyone else after we all worked so hard for this" Gerald Smith, one of the more unsavoury students to attend Kinnsington High School. A known delinquent in school and a known menace outside of school; he'd been held back a year through a combination of lack of effort and the fact that most of his teachers had either given up or were too afraid to try and teach him.

"I'm just here to enjoy the trip; I've got no reason to cause trouble and as long as nobody gives me one we'll be fine" Gerald pushed past him onto the bus, taking a seat midway down the aisle by himself.

Sighing once more Mr Edwards followed him onto the bus and the driver closed the door behind him. He was just about to tell him it was ok to drive off when a student ran up and started banging on the door to be let on. He told the driver to open the door, despite shouts from the back to 'just leave him' and stepped aside to let the latecomer past him.

"Good timing William, we were about to leave without you"

The kid smiled briefly at him before shuffling down the aisle and taking an empty seat near the front. Ticking the last name off his list he stood at the front and looked over the forty something students he'd been charged with chaperoning, his own homeroom class plus that belonging to Mr Phillips, who'd somehow managed to avoid having to ride along with them.

Standing at the front of the bus he prepared to make the usual speech asking the students to behave themselves and stay in their seats, knowing they'd just ignore him; as long as no one got hurt he didn't mind but it was required of him.

"Alright everyone, settle down, we've all worked long and hard to pay for this trip and it would be a shame if you ruined it now by causing trouble. Before we set off there are some ground rules I have to cover; this is your trip, you earned it, but this is still a school sponsored event, so I want everyone to be on their best behaviour. No fighting, no hitting, no illegal items, and since you're all underage that includes alcohol and cigarettes. Other than that have fun; nice, safe, legal fun, okay?" He sat down in his seat directly behind the driver and leaned forward to speak to him.

"Are we ready to go?"

"Yeah, everyone's accounted for; how long a drive are we looking at anyway?"

"Couple of house at the most, barring anything unforeseen happening"

He let his vision drift back to the students, the more 'spirited' of which were already out of their seats and causing trouble. Two hours stuck on a coach with this lot.

"It's going to be a long trip"

****

An hour into the trip most of the students had calmed down and settled into quiet conversation. Mr Edwards stretched in his chair and turned to look out of the window; the view on either side consisted of a few rows of trees and seemingly never ending fields; out the back window you could just about make out the lights from the buildings just disappearing out of view.

He looked behind him quickly to make sure the students weren't up to anything before turning back to face the driver and leaning forwards to speak to him. "This place sure is a long way out isn't it?" The driver looked back at him momentarily before turning back to the road.

"We haven't got much further to go now, like you said we'll be there before you know it. Don't worry about it, I'm this trip will be one that people will remember for a long time; well, the ones that survive certainly will"

The driver's last words were cut off as he pulled a military issue gas mask over his face. Edwards was just about to ask him about this strange act when the vents above him began hissing as a cloud of white smoke seeped out and dispersed into the air.

He stood up quickly and walked into the aisle. Turning around he saw that the other vents on the bus were doing the same thing and that many of the students were starting to panic while others seemed oddly calm. He took a few steps before he began to feel light headed and stumbled into the aisle, just managing to catch himself on the back of one of the chairs; he tried to steady himself but couldn't do anything to prevent the gas' effect on him. His vision began to blur and the last thing he saw before he descended into darkness was the ground rushing up to meet him.


	2. Initiation

Mr Edwards awoke to a splitting head ache. Strangely he couldn't quite remember falling asleep, or much else from the bus trip, but for some reason thinking about it gave him a feeling of dread.

He shifted slightly in his seat, which probably meant he was at least still on the bus, and opened his eyes slowly before looking around him; rather than being surrounded by students and the interior of the coach, he appeared to be in a cafeteria of some sort, though it was currently too dark to tell anything for sure. Sfeveral large round tables and attached benches, at which the students were sat, took up the majority of the room and stretching across almost one entire wall was the usual open window to the kitchens where people lined up to get their food, though now it looked empty. He himself seemed to be seated by himself in a high-backed chair at the front of the room, almost as if on display. It was now that the sounds of several panicked voices reached his ears.

_Where the hell are we?_

_What going on?_

_I'm scared_

Catching movement out of the corner of his eye, Mr Edwards turned quickly to face it, looking straight ahead to the back of the room behind the students. He thought he could see a few figures standing there in the dark but almost as soon as he looked their way the lights overhead were turned on and they all seemed to be shining in his face.

He tried to raise his arm to shield his eyes but found he couldn't; looking down he saw that his arms were both tied down to the arms of the chair. He tried again, struggling to pull him arms free and finding that his legs were bound too.

"Ah, ah, ah, Mr Edwards" A voice from the back shouted out, most likely one of the men he'd seen. "Try not to struggle too much; it would be quite a nuisance if you forced me to kill you before I was planning to"

Mr Edwards froze in place, trying to look past the blinding light to the people beyonfd hoping to identify the speaker.

_Was this guy serious? Would he really kill him?_

He heard footsteps approaching him. As the person walked forward they blocked out the light partially to allow him to see them. The man, he assumed it was a man, was tall, over six feet, and broad shouldered;f though the rest of his appearance was hidden by the long hooded coat he wore, Mr Edwards knew enough to be afraid. The man stopped and stood before him, his arms held behind his back. Hfe seemed to examine him for second before swinging his arm around and before Mr Edwards could see what was held in the mans hand, a deafening bang sounded out and pain erupted in his stomach as he was shot. He shouted out in pain before gritting he his teeth and stifled the rest of his cries;f the students screamed out in fear, some shouting abuse at the man, but all were quickly silenced when the man turned to face them and pointed the pistol in their direction. He held his arms wide in greeting, the pistol still in his hand, and spoke loudly and with great enthusiasm, a sadistic smile across his face.

"Welcome, boys and girls, welcome, to the first ever Battle Royale competition" The last few words were spoken quieter than the rest, though most of the room still heard them.

"You lucky few have been chosen to take part in an event like no other, an event that will forever go down in history; hell, a few of you might even become famous. But, I'm getting ahead of myself; I suppose I'd better explain the rules to you before anything else"

"The rules of this Battle Royale are simple; there is only one way to win, you must-" Mr Edwards tried to turn his body to see past the man and at his students, they hadn't made any noise in a while and he was worried. Unfortunately this caused him pain due to the hole in his stomach and he could help but cry out, interrupting the man's speech. The man paused in his speech for a second before turning around quickly and, in a blur, struck him in the side of the head with the grip of his pistol. "Don't interrupt me"

Stars erupted in Mr Edwards vision and pain exploded in his head; at least his stomach didn't hurt as much anymore. The man gave him an intense look for a second, waiting to see if he would interrupt again, before turning back to the room, speaking just as loudly but the smile noticeably gone from his voice.

"Where was I? Ah yes. There is only one way to win, you must kill. You must kill your classmates. Yfou must kill every last person you see in this room with you now, kill until you are the last person left. Then, and only then, will you be declared the winner, and then, and only then, will you be allowed to leave"

****

For a moment there was nothing but silence from the students; the revelation that they were being asked to fight to the death silencing all questions for the moment. The cloaked figure paced back and forth in front of Mr Edwards, apparently thinking to himself while the students did the same. Of course that was what he wanted; there was nothing he hated more than being interrupted and the last thing he wanted was for someone to ruin his opening speech by talking over him.

That was the motivation behind shooting the teacher, silence; there was no real reason for doing so, aside for personal amusement, though it did also work quite well as a way of shocking the students into not asking questions, as well as setting the tone for things to come. Not surprisingly this didn't keep them quiet for long, and soon every student was talking at once and the room was filled with indecipherable noise. He raised the pistol once more and fired one shot into the centre of the nearest table and immediately the room fell silent once more.

"Now that I have your attention, allow me to introduce myself; my name is Barret, don't believe me if you want but that's the name I'm going with.f I'll be your announcer for the duration of this event. But before we move on, in the interest of preventing any more unfortunate interruptions" The man paused to glance back at Mr Edwards quickly before continuing. "I'll answer any questions you have now". There was a moment's pause and some uncomfortable shuffling before one of the students stood up.

"Why do this? I mean, I just don't get why anyone would want to kidnap a group of students just to make them kill each other?" The cloaked man lowered his pistol back to his side and looked over the boy who had spoken. Daniel Lancaster, or B9 as the game knew him, an interesting addition to the game. His record at school was rather uninspiring; average grades in most subjects, no extracurriculars to speak of and physically he was hardly a threat. However, both of his parents were doctors and would, as a result, likely have at least some knowledge of medicine, something which could undoubtedly be put to good use in a game like this. The way he saw it Daniel could go one of two ways; either he would snap and become the Doctor Frankenstein of the island, so to speak, in which case he should by able to put that knowledge of the human body to use to provide some interesting and hopefully gruesome kills. Or, he would be a complete pacifist due to some self assigned Hippocratic oath and not try hurt anyone, in which case his death would be an example to the rest of the peace lovers on the island.

"Why? An interesting question. What would you think if I told you the government hired us to take you? Don't believe me? It would certainly explain a lot, like how we managed to kidnap forty plus students on a field trip and bring them here without getting caught. Of course that just brings us around to the question of 'why?' again. Well, I can't say anything about the discussions that lead up to the decision or even if what I've been told is even the real motive, I am just the front man after all, but it seems that the people in charge have decided to take a more proactive solution to the problems of crime, over population, and pretty much anything else that the citizens are complaining about these days; you can think of yourselves as the trial run of a new initiative"

The man who called himself Barret paced back and forth across the front of the room in front of the students as he spoke; it was easy to tell from their reactions that the thought that the government could be responsible for all of this was a shock to them, but he could also see the acceptance from some of them as if it wasn't too hard for them to believe.

"Or maybe it's an act of terrorism against America? You have to admit it's a pretty effective one; there are very few things that will demoralise the American population more than knowing the government can't even protect their own children from people like us"

Barret continued to pace back and forth, noting as the looks of shock and disbelieve were replaced with confusion. Of course he wasn't just going to tell them his motivations for doing this, they didn't need to know. However he wasn't just going to pass up an opportunity to mess with their heads when it presented itself so neatly.

"Or maybe it's something else entirely, because really? I can give whatever reason I want and you'll believe me; for all you know I'm just doing this because it's fun. You don't need to know why we're doing this, you just need to know that it's happening and you have no choice but to go along with it"

Barret stopped pacing and turned to face the class assembled before him as confusion turned to annoyance at the fact that Barret had essentially dodged the question. He couldn't help the grin that passed over his face as he noticed this, checking the time on his watch before speaking again. "We're still a little ahead of time so why don't I answer a few more questions. Any takers?" Another student near the back of the room stood up and glared at Barret before speaking.

"Assuming that the first reason you gave wasn't bullshit and you are working for the government, do you really think people are going to stand for it? Once people find out about this it's only a matter of time before they take action; protests, riots, maybe even a full blown revolt.

"And if you aren't working for the government, if this is just terrorism or for your own amusement, how long before they find you? How long before the army shows up to shut you down? You might get a few of us to kill each other but this game of yours will be stopped long before it comes to an end"

Barret considered the possibility of shooting the speaker briefly before deciding against it and instead walked over to him and placed his empty hand on his shoulder, pushing down as to force him back into his seat.

"Sit down Mr Holmes, this game would be a lot less interesting without you in it, if you psychological profile is anything to go by; try to keep thing civil so that I'm not forced to silence you" Barret walked back to the front of the room before turning back to the room and addressing them again. The one who had spoken was still glaring back at him, apparently not too pleased with having his questions silenced. Isaac Holmes, B5, a member of the debate team who was well known, and rather disliked, for his outspoken nature and views. Still, he was always going to be a threat; if anyone could rally the students against him it was Isaac.

"You raised some valid points, so I think it's only fair that I explain to you why you're wrong. While you are probably right that most people would be appalled to find out that the government was responsible for this, and that they would likely protest or riot, you are also most likely wrong to think that it will have any effect. Think about it, if the government was willing to send forty four students to a secluded location and force them to kill each other, do you really think they care if people didn't agree with them? And if we are doing this for ourselves or are taking order from someone other than your government, do you really think they'll have any chance of finding us? We were able to hijack a bus full of high school students and take them out of the country without anyone even noticing. So no, the people who set this up won't simply change their mind and let you go home, no, we won't be found and no, no one is coming to rescue you. This game will continue as planned, till it's logical conclusion, and will only end when all but one of you are dead. The sooner to come to realise this, the better off you'll be"

Looking over the group in front of him, Barret could tell that his words had had the desired effect; Isaac still looked defiant, if less so than before, but the majority of the students now wore an expression which showed that they were now accepting the facts of their situation. Smirking, Barret turned and began pacing again.

"Now, I have a lot of information to cover in a short amount of time, and thanks to our little Q&A I'm now behind schedule, so if you'll all just be quiet and listen while I-"

"Why us?" Barret turned back to face the group to see a girl sat near the centre of the room standing and looking directly at him. "Of all the schools you could have chosen, why us? What's so special about our school?"

Barret had only glanced at most of the files he was given and as such didn't remember most of the students' names, but this girl he did. Cassandra Evans, G21; she was a photographer and writer for the schools newspaper and had angered near enough every other student in the game with her writing and talent for finding out the things they didn't want anyone to know. Her time in the game was sure to be eventful, if nothing else.

"In a word, nothing; your school was chosen at random, just luck of the draw, or not, as the case may be. As for why we chose this group of students in particular. We didn't, you just happened to get on the wrong bus, that's all"

Cassandra shook her head, not believing what he had just told her. "But you knew Isaac's name just now, you even said you had his psychological profile?"

"Just because we chose your school at random doesn't mean we didn't do our research, what kind of shoddy operation do you think we're running here? We have profiles for every student who was on that trip, so we'd now what to expect once we found out who exactly we had grabbed"

This answer seemed to satisfy Cassandra as she sat down after a couple seconds of thought and allowed Barret to go back to his pacing. "As I was saying, I have a lot of information to cover, so shut up and listen. You know the basic idea behind the game, kill each other or die, simple, but there are a few other things that I need to explain to you, the first on the list being those collars around your neck.

Barret watched as all at once the group of students before him reached up to their necks and clasped their hands around the metal collars, a smile spreading across his face as they did so. Most of them looked surprised, having not noticed them until now, while a few just looked curious, just now paying attention to the devices that they had noticed but not given much concern till now.

"Their main function is to act as a tracking device so that we can see where you are once you get out on the island, more on that later, but there other function is to - hey don't pull at it, trust me that's a bad idea, you'll see why in a bit – there other function is basically to keep you in line"

Barret turned back to face Mr Edwards, now looking rather pale as a result of the blood lose from the gunshot wound, and walked behind and just to the side of his chair. He grabbed him the hair and pulled his head back, exposing his neck.

"As you can see your teacher here has been fitted with one too, he'll help me to demonstrate just how these little things are supposed to motivate you" Barret paused briefly to pull a small device like a TV remote out of his coat pocket before speaking again. "The inside of these collars are lined with a couple coils of primer cord, that explosives for those of you that don't know, and are set to go off should anyone try to remove them" Barret smile widened as everyone's hands dropped from their necks immediately. "I know a few of you are going to be sceptical about this, which is where Mr Edwards comes in"

Barret took a few steps to the side away from the chair where Mr Edwards was still bound before pointing the remote at him and clicking a button. At first nothing happened and look of visible relief passed over his face. This was quickly replaced with fear however as a slow, high pitched beeping began to sound out from his neck and a red light began flashing on the collar. The beeping quickly began to speed up, getting higher and faster until eventually it was just one long tone. A second later a deafening boom sounded out and Mr Edwards head was consumed in a cloud of dust and red mist. Barret flinched visibly, throwing his arms up to shield himself before lowering them slowly and laughing triumphantly upon seeing the body.

What was left of Mr Edwards still sat in the chair, although now he was missing a head, a neck and a fair portion of his upper torso as well; his shoulders were still there and his arms were still attached but both looked quite badly singed. Barret walked behind the chair and bent down to pick something up before lifting up Mr Edwards head by the hair, still laughing as he turned his hand over and held it upside down in his palm.

"I think we put too much explosive into this one, not that I'm complaining" Barret turned his hand back over, holding the head by its hair as he swung his arm and threw the severed head into the room, watching as it bounced over one of the tables and stopped just in front of one of the students. "That, boys and girls, is what happens when you try and mess with us; if you try and escape, if you try not to fight, basically if you piss me off in anyway, I'll push the button to make your collar explode just like that. Not as fun as watching you kill each other, but still pretty entertaining"

Before Barret could continue, a student that he recognised as Chael Tovaras, now B8, stood up at one of the front tables. "What's wrong with you, you sick fuck? You didn't have to throw his head at us like that. Are you having fun torturing us like this?"

"Of course I am, I think it's important to enjoy your work"

This last comment apparently sent Chael over the edge and, with a roar, he rushed at Barret, pulling his arm back as he closed the distance between them and attempting to land a punch on the older man. Barret simply stepped to the side and, reaching back with the hand holding the pistol, clubbed Chael in the back as he passed him, sending the boy sprawling onto his stomach. Before he could recover Barret walked over to where he lay and kicked him in the side to flip him over onto his back and pointed the pistol in his face, keeping him where he was with the silent threat to shoot him if he moved.

"You've got guts kid, I'll give you that; in fact that's the only reason I'm not going to shoot you for taking a swing at me like that. But, still, can't let you off without some kind of punishment" Barret lifted one leg up and slammed his boot down on Chael's side, causing him to cry out in pain.

Barret turned and walked away from the boy as another student walked over and half carried him back to his seat. Soon after the doors that sat at the back of the cafeteria flew open and two groups of people filed in and lined up on either side of the room, halfway between the students and the walls, boxing them in. Each person wore coats like Barret's and held AK47's across their chests, their faces were covered in the same manner as Barret's as well. A few more people entered the room after them, some rolling large racks filled with duffel bags up to the front of the room and another rolling a table with another duffle bag on top and positioning it in front of Barret before moving into line with the others.

"Now I know you're all eager to get out there and kill each other, but there are still a few things left to cover, I'll try not to take too long" Barret turned around and walked to the back of the room just behind the chair and stood in front of a large blackboard which still had a menu written on it in chalk, though most of it was now obscured by Mr Edwards blood. He picked up the eraser and wiped most of it clean, leaving the word 'Specials' across the top, and drew out a rough outline of something. "After we knocked you out we brought you to an island that looks like this" He pointed to the outline he'd drawn.

"Now this island has an interesting history, but you don't need to know it all so I'll summarise. It's roughly fifteen miles in diameter and most of the island is covered in what's left of a civilian town that once covered the island. About twenty years after it was built, the residents were cleared out and the army moved in and converted the whole island into a military base –don't get any ideas, we've stripped it of weapons and anything else you might be able to use, though there are probably a few working vehicles left around, though they may be a bit old by now.

"So that's it, old civilian buildings with newer military buildings built over them, with dense forest covering the areas in between that haven't been clear to make roads. All of which means that there will be plenty of places for people to hide, so you'll have to go hunting for each other if you want to win. We've covered the whole island with cameras and microphones, as well as place smaller mics in your collars, that way we can keep an eye on you and listen in, so don't bother trying anything" Barret reached down to the table in front of him and opened up the duffle bag.

"To help you survive in this game, at least for a little while, we're going to give each of you a daypack with the following contents" Barret reached into the bag, pulling out each item as he named it. "Rations, Map, Compass, Flashlight, Student list, for keeping track of which of your friends are dead, and a First Aid kit, don't be so surprised, we want you all to die, but we want you to last long enough to suffer a bit first. It's your basic Red Cross issue kit, don't ask how we got them; a few wraps, some gauze and a few band aids, just some stuff to stop you from bleeding out should you get hit by an axe or something like that. We'll also be providing you with a weapon, which may or may not be helpful, it could be anything from a gun or a knife or, well, you'll see when you get out there"

Barret leaned forward onto the table and smiled again, a site that by now, most of the students probably found disturbing. "One last thing. This game has a time limit, we don't want to be waiting around for too long so to motivate you we're only giving you three days to kill each other. If there's more than one person left alive 72 hours from when we send the first of you out onto the island then those collars of yours will explode, all of them, and no one will get to go home, understand? So that's it; try and put on a good show, fight hard, do your best and you might just make it home, if not, well, at least try to provide us with an entertaining death"

Barret stood up from the table and stepped around the table, standing in front of the students with his hands behind his back. "You'll each be called up one at a time in two minute intervals to collect a pack and leave through the doors at the back of the mess hall. The game starts now"

****

Author Note: In hindsight I probably should have put this chapter and the last one together as there is really no reason to separate them. These first few chapters before the island are mostly meant to introduce the story so there is not a lot of information given on the few characters introduced, especially the students. You'll see more of them once the game starts proper.


	3. Student List

Student Order

B1: Kevin Landers

G1: Jennifer Martin

B2: Elliot Starlin

G2: Arianna Vanderson

B3: Steven Ambrose

G3: Andrea Wilson

B4: Vincent Sullivan

G4: Brianna Hughes

B5: Isaac Holmes

G5: Sophie Hall

B6: Eric Reynolds

G6: Samantha Winters

B7: Edward Caldwell

G7: Gabrielle Rousseau

B8: Chael Tovaras

G8: Victoria Adams

B9: Daniel Lancaster

G9: Alice Young

B10: Gerald Smith

G10: Julia Watashi

B11: Zack Stone

G11: Penelope Waterford

B12: Tim Scotts

G12: Trina Nichols

B13: Derrick Hudson

G13: Madeline Scott

B14: Simon Reed

G14: Zoe King

B15: Stewart Rice

G15: Amber Woods

B16: William White

G16: Abigail "Abbi" Ward

B17: Charles Palmer

G17: Heather Richardson

B18: Ian Hayes

G18: Sandra Clark

B19: Jacob Vayle

G19: Katherine Davis

B20: Gavin Matthews

G20: Lilly Gordon

B21: Adrian Starr

G21: Cassandra Evans

B22: Matthew Butler

G22: Elizabeth Shaw


	4. First Hour 44 Students Remaining

First Hour – 44 Students Remaining

Barret checked his watch quickly; still two minutes till midnight. "One last thing before I forget. You are more or less free to roam about the island as you like for the duration of this game, with one exception; two minutes after the last student leaves, this building and the area around it will become off limits, meaning that any student who comes with one-hundred feet of this place afterward will have their collar automatically detonated."

Checking his watch one more time, Barret couldn't help but let a smile play on his lips as he saw that it was time to start the game. "Enough preamble. Now that's all taken care of, let's get things started." Reaching back onto the table behind him, Barret pulled a clipboard out of the confines of the pack and read the first name from the list in front of him.

"Alright, the first lucky contestant is B1: Kevin Landers."

****

Kevin stood up slowly, not quite trusting his legs to support him yet, and forced his face into an expression of neutrality as he walked towards the front of the room. There stood the large rack of bags that contained their supplies for the next three days and the weapons that they would use to kill each other. The hooded figure that stood next to the rack threw one of these bags at him as he approached, and he caught it as it hit him in the chest.

He turned around to leave, but couldn't help but pause as he caught sight of all the other students in the room, many of which would likely be dead before he got the chance to see them again. Not a violent person at heart, Kevin realized just how hard this game would be on everyone. The people in this game had all known each other for years of their life; in some cases even longer. That familiarity alone would make it much harder to kill each other, not to mention the relationships, friendships or grudges involved. This game would affect them in ways that it wouldn't a group of strangers.

At the sound of someone clearing their throat behind him, he turned around once more to see Barret tapping his watch with the barrel of his pistol and wearing an impatient expression. "One minute."

Kevin lifted the pack up and placed the strap over his head before hurrying towards the back of the room, stopping only to lean down and whisper a message to his girlfriend that he would meet her outside. As he approached the double doors at the back of the large room, the two cloaked figures on either side grabbed one of the handles and pulled them open, closing them again behind him as he passed. Waiting for him on the other side of the doors was a short corridor leading to another set of double doors which presumably lead outside.

Two rows of armed and cloaked soldiers stood on either side of the corridor, flanking him as he made his way slowly towards the heavy-looking metal doors opposite him. The fact that none of the soldiers moved an inch as he passed, and the fact that they all looked almost identical to each other- except for minor differences in height and build- unnerved him slightly and did nothing to help with his already nervous state. Feeling a sudden need to get out of there quickly, Kevin sprinted the rest of the corridor and pushed open the double doors without slowing down. He paid no attention to his new surroundings, focusing only on the tree line directly in front of him. He stopped running once he had made it under the cover of the trees, only now seeing how dark it was outside- the only light being provided by the single, solitary floodlight above the exit he had just passed through. His current position gave him a perfect view of the doors to the mess hall, and would allow him to see everyone who left the building without them seeing him. All he had to do now was wait.

****

Steven Ambrose, aka B3, stood calmly from his seat as his name was called and walked over to collect his pack confidently yet swiftly. He turned around, and with a quick flash of a smile to the other students, he walked out of the room. As soon as he was outside, however, he let the act drop, taking off at a dead sprint the second the large metal doors closed behind him, not wasting any time in putting as much distance between him and the next student to leave as he could. His pack weighed heavy on his shoulder, banging against his side with every step as he leapt over a small bush, signalling his transition from the open area just outside the mess hall to the forest that made up most of the island.

As he ran, he thought about his chances in the game; and truth be told they weren't that good. True, outside of the game he had quite a bit going for him; he was popular, good looking, and had enough charm to get by. However, none of that mattered here. Physically, he wasn't very strong or in very good shape, as the painful stitch in his side proved to him. Plus, he really didn't know the first thing about weapons, fighting, first-aid and anything else that would help him survive out here.

He slowed down to a brisk walk to save his breath, readjusting his pack higher on his shoulder. His only real chance at survival in this game would be to ally himself with one of the other students, even if only temporarily. This, at least, would be easy for him. Being an almost constant fixture in the school theatre productions and starring in more than a few had made him somewhat of a school celebrity; making him popular, or at least well known, at all levels of the schools hierarchy.

Of course, teaming up would only help him to survive- not win. To win he'd have to play the game, he'd have to kill his fellow students. To be honest this was not something that exactly bothered Steven. True, if he wasn't being forced, he would never even consider killing another person. But if it was a choice between his life and theirs? That was really no choice at all. The only problem was how, and then it hit him. He was a good actor, which in turn made him a good liar; he'd always been able to charm and lie his way through any situation he'd tried to, and he would do the same here. He would find another student or even a group of them and then he would charm his way into allying with them; he would make them trust him, make them lower their guard, and when they least expected it he would stab them in the back.

Of course, all this planning was pointless if he didn't get a decent weapon. Before doing anything else, he needed to find a nice secluded spot where he could settle down and search through his pack to see what he had to work with.

****

G6, aka Samantha Winters, clutched her pack to her chest as she stood outside the mess hall, looking nervously from side to side as she tried to decide what to do now. After a while, she realized she made a pretty good target; standing directly under the spotlight above the door and outlined against the wall of the building like she was. She moved into the tree line directly to her left, feeling a little calmer and less vulnerable once she made it under the darkness and cover provided by the branches overhead.

She leaned back against the trunk of a nearby tree and closed her eyes, trying to think of someway out of the current situation. She gave up when all that entered her mind was the image of Mr. Edwards severed and bloodied head soaring through the air before bouncing across a table. She wasn't cut out for this game; she wasn't used to that kind of violence. Before seeing that she only thought of violence and death as things that existed solely in the movies; and she would have preferred to keep it that way. Yet here she was, on an island in the middle of nowhere being forced into a death match with her peers.

Samantha was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn't see or hear the person approaching her through the trees until he had gotten close enough to place a hand on her arm. She quickly snapped out of her thoughts upon feeling the sudden contact, and turned to run. But the hand tightened around her arm before she could put any distance between the two of them. She was about to scream for help when a calm and familiar voice reached her through her panic.

"It's okay, Sam. It's me."

She turned around as the speaker let go of her arm and was met with the welcome sight of her boyfriend, Kevin, easily recognizable to her even in the meagre light available. In any other circumstance, she would have been happier to see him; as it was it just meant that he was stuck in the same life or death situation she was.

"Kevin, what're we going to do?"

"I don't know. This is all happening so fast. I need more time to think things through. For now, I think we should just get as far away from this place as we can" With that said, he turned around and walked away. He headed deeper into the trees, looking back over his shoulder every few steps to make certain she was still following. Samantha quickly threw her pack over her shoulder and hurried to catch up with him. She knew this program would be Hell on both of them, but she was glad she was with the person she trusted and cared for more than any other in the game. Few others were as lucky.

****

Looking down at the gun in his hands, Tim Scotts, aka B12, had no choice but to conclude that the Battle Royale was indeed real. He had hoped that it was just a hoax, a nightmare, a delusion; anything other than what it seemed to be. Unfortunately, that was not the case; the weapon that currently weighed heavily in his hands wasn't a fake. No matter how many times he looked away it didn't go away or change, it was real; real gun, real bullets, real trigger. It was all real.

He sighed as he reached for the box of bullets that he found in the pack with the weapon and, with the help of the instruction manual, proceeded to load the large .357 magnum rounds into the revolver. The manual that Tim found with the gun told him that it was a Colt Python; a double-action revolver and easily one of the most powerful weapons on the island. He wasn't sure why he was loading it, he didn't plan on using it; killing wasn't something that Tim could bring himself to do. He doubted he could even point it at anyone convincingly, but it was still better to be safe than sorry. At the very least he could fire off some warning shots, maybe scare people away if they tried to attack him.

Would anyone really attack him, though? Could anyone really be considering killing just to save themselves? He knew the answer to his question before he even finished thinking it; of course people were going to consider it. Whether out of fear, paranoia, malice or just the will to survive, the people in this game were going to kill each other. But not him. He couldn't; he just didn't have it in him to hurt someone, let alone kill them.

He finished loading the revolver and packed everything except the gun back into the pack. Closing it up, he lifted it onto his shoulder and began to walk deeper into the forest. Just because he wasn't going to play, that didn't mean he was just going to sit around and wait for death. No, he was going to find as many people like him as he could; all the people who didn't want anything to do with the game. Then he'd keep them alive for as long as possible. It didn't matter what Barret said; three days was a long time. Someone would find them, someone would come and rescue them. If not, then someone would escape. There were a lot of smart people on that bus and he refused to believe that none of them could think of some way to beat this game. He just had to make sure he was around long enough to see it.

It may have been naive of him to think that he could keep so many people alive for so long; it was probably naive to think he could even keep himself alive that long. However, none of that mattered. It was either this or play the game, and no matter what he would not have blood on his hands. Not unless it was his own.


	5. Second Hour 44 Students Remaining

Second Hour – 44 Remaining

Amber Woods, aka G15, moved through the trees carefully, holding her flashlight in front of her and trying not to catch herself on any of the protruding branches or trip over any undergrowth. It was no overstatement to say that she was terrified; it was hard not to be. Walking through a dark forest alone at night was scary enough, but add in the factor of a forest filled with people who probably wanted her dead, and you have the stuff nightmares are made of. Hearing something move off to the side, she spun around to face it. Her hand shook as she held the flashlight aloft, causing the light to dance in front of her and only succeed in making the shadows appear more menacing, as well as making it harder to pick out any real threats from the imagined ones.

"Is someone there?"

"_Yeah right, if there was someone hiding in there waiting to kill you, do you really think they'd just come out and tell you?"_

"Stay back, I've got a gun"

"_No you don't, but hopefully they don't know that."_

"Amber, is that you? Don't shoot ok, it's just me." Amber instinctively took a couple of steps back as someone stepped out from behind a tree in front of her, but as the light fell across their face she realised she didn't have anything to worry about.

"Brianna, thank God." Amber felt a wave of relief wash over her as Brianna Hughes, aka G4, aka one of Amber's closest friends, walked over to her. While Amber realised that teaming up was probably not the best idea in a game that encouraged betraying and killing your friends in order to survive, the idea of having a friendly face around was a comforting and welcome one. However, her feeling of relief lessened once she realised that there was someone missing from their small reunion. "Wait, isn't Jennifer with you? She left before both of us. Wasn't she waiting for you?"

"No, I don't know where she is...." Brianna waved her hand dismissively. "I guess she decided she'd be better off by herself or something."

"Shouldn't we try and find her? She could get killed!"

"If she wants to be alone, let her be alone. Right now we need to worry about ourselves."

What Brianna said made sense; it wouldn't help anyone to worry about something you couldn't change, even if you wanted to. Still, Amber couldn't help but wonder why Jennifer would choose not to meet up with them. After all, Jennifer Martin, aka G1, was effectively the leader of their small group; Jennifer, Brianna, Sandra, and herself were one of the closest groups of friends in the school. Why would she decide to go it alone when they could all work to survive together? The only reason Amber could think of was if she were attacked, or even…. killed. No, she couldn't think like that. Jennifer was stronger than that; she wouldn't let herself get killed so early on. But then, why wasn't she waiting for them when they left? The only other explanation was if she was planning on playing the game. But she wouldn't do that…. would she?

"Hey! I said, where's your gun?" Amber was broken out of her thoughts as Brianna waved her hand in front of her face.

"What?"

"You said you were going to shoot me. Where's your gun? I want to know what we've got to work with"

"Oh, right. I was just bluffing- sorry. I actually haven't looked at my weapon yet." Amber swung her pack off her shoulder and let it drop to the ground, opening it and sifting through the contents. She'd looked through the bag once already, while looking for the flashlight which she now used to aide her search, but hadn't yet seen what Barret's people had given her to defend herself with. Upon finding the desired object, she stood up from the pack and held the flashlight in such a way as to illuminate the object in her other hand.

"A hammer?" Brianna's voice sounded both mocking and disappointed as she looked over the claw hammer in Amber's hand. "Well, it's still better than what they gave me," reaching into her pocket as she spoke, Brianna pulled out a standard deck of playing card and held it in the light for Amber to see.

"At least we won't get bored," Amber commented, trying to make her friend feel a little better about her weapon assignment.

Brianna placed the cards back in her pocket with a sigh. "I was hoping you'd have something better. We're not exactly in the best shape to defend ourselves with just these."

"Still, we now know that not everyone out there was given guns, and there's bound to be someone out there with something worse than a deck of cards and a hammer. Then again, it's not those people that I'm worried about."

"All we need to do for now is wait for Sandra to meet up with us and find a place to make a stronghold. Then, we'll worry about what to do should someone better armed show up."

"I just hope it's as easy as you make it sound."

****

As William White, aka B16, looked at the weapon he had removed from his pack, he felt conflicted; unsure of what path to take in the game. The main choice of "what" he should do was between two options: play the game and kill his classmates as the men who had captured him expected him to, or simply not play. A simple question in theory, though it became more difficult when you factored in such things as "how," and even "who" if he chose to only kill specific people. Although, he did have some ideas as to that last one.

He had no problem killing in self defence; he could thank his father for that. The ex-army soldier believed that every man had the right to defend himself. As such, he taught William some basic self defence techniques, as well as the fact while it was preferable to not have to fight at all, there was nothing wrong in killing someone if it meant saving your own life. In addition, he was also taught that it was never right to attack someone else, and under no circumstances was it ever acceptable to kill someone who hadn't given you good reason to.

Given those facts it should have been easy to decide what to do in the game. He would spend his time just wandering the island, avoiding all the fights he could and only fighting back as and when it was necessary. The conflict came when he realised that he **wanted** to play the game, he **wanted** to kill his classmates. Or rather, just the ones that had wronged him in the past. However, if anyone else got in the way, well.... he wasn't sure what he'd do. He still had some morals, probably.

He turned his weapon over in his hands as he thought, examining it. The people running the game had provided him with a machete; it's wide, flat blade looked old and stained from excessive use, though no less menacing as he wasn't entirely sure what the stains were from. On its own it wasn't all that impressive, but it was better than nothing. Which some people had probably gotten, or close to it. But some people out there almost certainly had guns, and compared to them the cumbersome metal blade hardly seemed that threatening.

His _other_ weapon, however, more than made up for any shortcomings his main one had. While searching through his bag, William had come across an item which was not part of the equipment that Barret had listed during their initiation. It was a small, electronic device, large and bulky in appearance and feel, but not enough that he couldn't hold it comfortably. Most of the surface was covered by a large screen, with the remainder being taken up by buttons and what could only be described as the "logo" of Battle Royale across the top.

Finding the "ON" switch, William turned the device on and waited for the screen to warm up. It lit up to show the same general shape that Barret had drawn on the board in the mess hall to represent the island they were on, leading him to assume that it was some kind of GPS; with one difference. A number of small red dots could be seen on the display, most of which were roughly grouped around the area where the mess hall was located, with a few lone dots a little further away.

It didn't take him long to realise that it was showing him the location of all the students on the island, though sadly it didn't identify them. Each red dot looked exactly the same. Despite that, the significance of this was huge; there had been no mention of "bonus" items in the initiation, but that was obviously what this was; he had to assume he was the only one with this advantage. Now he just had to figure out what to do with it. Did he use it to hunt people down, following them across the island until he got his chance? Or did he use it to avoid them, watching where they were and where they were going and moving to avoid them?

Making up his mind, William swung the pack onto his shoulder and stood up. For now he would just "play it by ear," so to speak. Just walk around the island, using the GPS to avoid everyone he could and only fighting when he had to. There was no sense in abandoning his morals this early in the game.

He checked the GPS once more before turning it off and placing it in his pocket; there was no reason to drain the battery. There was a river directly east of the mess hall that cut through the forest all the way to the north of the island, which was where he was headed now. The GPS said there were two other people heading in roughly that direction as well, but he was sure he could get there first.

"_And if not,"_ William tightened his grip on the handle of the machete. _"There's always Plan B."_

****

Katherine Davis, aka G19, was running. She was being chased, hunted, and she didn't know why, or by who, or even where she was going; all she knew was they were right behind her and if she stopped running they would catch her.

She tried to think, to remember who was after her, but with the pain in her legs and the burning in her lungs she couldn't think properly. She remembered seeing something crouching in the forest, she remembered going to get a closer look, then just flashes of memory; a set of vicious, edged teeth, a roar echoing through the forest and in her ears, a pair of gleaming, predatory eyes. Then… just running; running for her life.

Against her better judgement, she stopped. She had to; her lungs were on fire from trying to suck in enough air and her legs were about to give out from the strain of keeping up her panicked running. She spun around, looking through the trees in all directions, expecting some beast, some monster, to come charging at her. Instead, she was met with just empty darkness and silence; she was alone.

Once she was certain that the threat had not followed her, she allowed herself to relax. She doubled over, hands on her legs as she started taking in deeper breaths, trying to regain her composure, or as much of it as she could. The weight of the pack on her shoulder suddenly seemed far too heavy, so she dropped it to the ground at her feet before falling to her knees next to it.

She opened it up and began searching through the contents, looking for a bottle of water; only to pull out a small, plastic container instead. She fumbled through the pack for her torch and aimed the beam at her other hand, the light illuminating the label enough that she could just about make out the small writing: cyanide. A small, plastic vial of cyanide; she was no expert, but it looked like it contained just enough of the toxic powder to kill one person.

That was a tempting idea; she didn't know how painless death by poisoning was, but it had to be better than whatever was coming for her. Even if she escaped now, she didn't exactly have a good chance of winning with this vial as her only weapon; she'd probably just wind up pray to one of the other students eventually.

But then, she really didn't want to kill herself; she didn't want to die period, but it seemed like it was going to happen no matter what. But did it have to happen yet? She could still run, could still get away from whatever was after her; who knows, maybe she could even live long enough to get off this rock. That was an enticing prospect, no matter how unlikely it was.

Her decision was made for her as she was startled out of her thoughts by a low growl making its way to her ears, which, as it grew louder and closer, was soon joined by heavy footfalls and laboured breathing.

She hadn't lost it; it had followed her, found her, and soon it was going to kill her.

Her hands started shaking and she dropped the vial into her pack, losing it among the larger contents. With no options left, she quickly ducked down behind a bush at the base of a tree. Her eyes caught movement ahead of her, and she pressed herself as close down to the ground as she could manage. She closed her eyes and tried to control her panicked breathing so as to not give her hiding place away. Cautiously opening her eyes, she peered through a gap in the foliage and saw not the monster she had imagined, but a person. Jacob Vayle, aka B19, came running into the small clearing in the forest just a few metres from where she was hiding, carrying a heavy looking chainsaw in both hands. She didn't know him very well; in fact, she didn't think anybody did. However, the way he was looking around wildly, as if searching for something to kill, left little doubt that he was what was chasing her.

Was that what she was running from? Well, the chainsaws blade certainly had teeth on it, and the motor, which was currently letting out a low growl, could have sounded like a roar when revved, and there was definitely something predatory in the way Jacob was looking around the forest, presumably trying to see were she had gone. Had she really been so terrified, so panicked that she could have mixed the images up in her head so badly? Apparently so.

So then, nothing to worry about, right? No monsters, no creatures, no fiends or any other nightmarish creation she could come up with; just a deranged looking student with a chainsaw chasing her through the forest in the middle of the night. Was it too late to go back to being chased by monsters?

After a few minutes, which to her felt like hours, he visibly let his shoulders drop in a sign of defeat and turned to leave. Katherine let out an audible sigh of relief, which luckily was not heard, before lifting herself off the ground and back onto unsteady feet. She picked up her pack from where she had left it just behind her and began walking swiftly in the opposite direction that Jacob had left in, hoping desperately that she wouldn't have to see him again in this game; and that no one else did either.

****

Author's note

Just to let everyone know, I've got exams coming up for the next couple of weeks so I probably won't have much time during that period for writing. Expect the next chapter in three to four weeks at most though.


	6. Third Hour 44 Students Remaining

Third Hour – 44 Students Remaining

Victoria Adams, a.k.a G8, moved cautiously between the trees towards the clearing ahead of her, careful not to make any sound that might alert the person currently crouched over their pack up ahead. Luckily she'd spotted them moving before they could hear her coming, giving her a chance to sneak up on them. What she was going to do once she'd done that she didn't know, but it seemed like a better idea that simply creeping away and hoping she didn't bump into them later, better to find out now if they were a threat or not.

She held her assigned weapon in front of her, the heavy rifle a comforting presence despite its cumbersome size and weight. To think, when she first opened her pack and saw the large weapon lying there she was hesitant to even touch it; it took her half an hour just to decide to load the thing, and another half and hour going through the manual to find out how, now here she was pointing it at someone's back, ready to shoot them if necessary. To kill them.

With that sobering thought Victoria stepped further towards the clearing, hesitating slightly before passing the line of trees into the open area, finally getting a good look at the other person. Their medium length blonde hair and smart, neat clothing, at least for a high school student, looked familiar but she couldn't quite place them at the moment; whomever it was they were definitely male. Almost losing her nerve, she turned to leave before they could spot her before admonishing herself and turned back to face them. She raised the rifle up to eye level and aimed down the sights at the persons back, taking a deep breath to calm herself before speaking.

"Keep your hands where I can see them and turn around slowly"

Instead the figure stood up quickly and whipped around in surprise to face her; she almost pulled the trigger out of reflex before she recognised them. She lowered the rifle to get a better look but still kept it pointed in their general direction.

"Oh, Steven, it's you"

****

Having found a suitably secluded location, Steven Ambrose, a.k.a B3, finally stopped walking and allowed the pack to slip from his shoulder. He crouched down next to the pack and opened it, the light provided by the nearly full moon was enough that he didn't need to use the flashlight to sift through the contents.

He placed the map, compass and student list in his pockets and kept on searching; food, water bottles, but no weapon yet. He began to fear that he hadn't been given one; after all, Barret did say that the weapon could be anything. It wasn't too hard to believe that some people would be given nothing at all just to fuck with them.

Strictly speaking he didn't really need a weapon. His current plan of action involved gaining peoples trust before killing them when they were most vulnerable. Changing the plan to involve getting his hands on their weapon first was not too big of a deal; he'd already considered that option just in case his weapon was a dud anyway. But he at least needed something that he could show people as his weapon, to prove one way or another if they needed to consider him a threat; if he had nothing at all then they'd think he was trying to hide it, that he was trying to trick them, which would make actually tricking them far more difficult.

He was pulled forcibly from his thoughts as he cut his finger on something sharp and jerked his hand from the pack. Reaching back inside, he carefully pulled out his weapon, a kitchen knife, its six inch long blade shimmering under the moonlight; it was perfect for what he had in mind.

"Keep your hands where I can see them and turn around slowly"

Steven spun round quickly in surprise, managing to keep the knife hidden from view and slip it into his belt at his back before pulling his shirt over it. How had he been so careless as to let someone get that close behind him?

His eyes focused on the large rifle currently aimed somewhere around his face as he thought what, if anything, he could say or do to stop them from pulling the trigger. Before he could think of anything, however, the barrel of the rifle lowered itself to point at his chest and a familiar voice cut through his thoughts.

"Oh Steven, it's you"

Looking up his eyes landed on a familiar face, "Victoria, thank God, for a second there I thought I was in trouble" he still eyed the gun warily as he talked; he needed to be careful, because if he messed up, if she thought he was trying to trick her, it could be all over. "I'm not am I?"

"What? No, of course not" Steven hid a smile as she lowered the rifle even more, holding it loosely in both hands. "Sorry, I just didn't know who you were. Better to play it safe right?"

"Yeah, I know what you mean, though I'd say you're pretty safe already with that rifle. Guess you're one of the lucky ones, I don't know what I've got yet; I was still trying to find it when you arrived" Victoria know only held the rifle loosely in front of her, pointed somewhere off to the side. Maybe if he was quick he could… no, no that would be too risky. Better to keep talking for now, gain her trust, maybe get that rifle away from her; like she said, better to play it safe. "So, where were you heading anyway? I hadn't decided where to go yet, doesn't seem like anywhere would really be 'safe', but I think we have a better chance if we stick together, what do you think?"

****

Victoria was a little surprised by the question and took a few seconds to respond, finally giving a shaky grin, "Yeah, I'd like that." She tucked the rifle under her arm so that she could pull her map out of her pocket. "I wasn't really going anywhere in particular when I found you; do you have any place in mind?"

This was something she could focus on at least, take her mind off of the current situation and focus on the next step. Steven walked over to stand behind her, looking over her shoulder at her map, "I think we're nearest to the barracks, but I'm guessing a few people would go there near the start. How about we go around it and head north, towards the docks? I don't think many people would head that far out so soon"

Victoria was about to agree with him when pain exploded across her back. She screamed and fell forward, the rifle falling forward and away from her. She turned over and looked up at Steven, staring at him in horror. He held a knife in his hand which dripped blood, her blood, onto the grass.

She could feel the blood flowing out of the cut in her back, staining her shirt. What could she do? The rifle, yes, she could protect herself. She turned back over and dove for where the rifle had fallen, grabbing it and clutching it to her as she tried to remember what she had read in the manual earlier. Was that the safety?

She looked up at Steven as she fumbled with the weapon in her hands, her vision blurred by the tears in her eyes. "Please Steven, don't do this…" she said, blinking to try to clear her vision.

****

To Isaac Holmes, a.k.a. B5, it was obvious that the Motor Pool had seen better days. The windows were either broken or thick with grime, the metal garage doors were rusted shut and the parking lot, which looked more like someone just poured a layer of concrete straight onto the ground and left it, was cracked in places where grass and weeds had pushed there way through. At least his early start had meant he'd gotten there first; the small one story building looked like it hadn't seen use in years.

He could see from where he was that the garage doors were padlocked shut, so instead he walked over to try his luck with the smaller wooden door but found this too was locked. For lack of a better idea he took a step back and rammed the door with his shoulder a couple of times. The aged door frame suddenly gave way on the third try and he stumbled into the room. Looking around he saw what more resembled a mechanics garage back home than a military building; Barret did say that this island had people living on it before the army kicked them out, it made sense that they would use the existing garage rather than build their own.

He was currently in the waiting area, with a row of chairs lining one wall and a reception area taking up the rest of the room. Two doors led out of the room - not counting the one he just broke through - through one he could see into the workshop while the other led into a small office. He checked both quickly to make sure he was alone before dropping his pack onto the desk in the reception area and taking a deep breath.

Isaac reached down and lifted the sling of his weapon over his head and placing the shotgun on the counter next to the pack. The manual told him it was the SPAS-12, though he didn't need to look at it to recognise the iconic weapon. Issued to police and military across the world, has both pump action and semi-automatic modes, favoured because it uses some of the recoil to load the next shell, so it has less of a kick than most shotguns; well, at least that's what the manual told him.

With a sigh Isaac began pacing around the room, his mind going over the plan he'd been coming up with ever since he'd heard Barret tell them what he wanted them to do. Isaac wanted out of the game, just like everyone else, but he wouldn't just give in and kill everyone he could just because they threatened to kill him if he didn't, he was going to escape, and take as many people with him as he could. He wanted to beat the game, to best it, but he knew he couldn't do it alone. He didn't have the skills necessary to pull off something like that, nor the first idea how if he was honest with himself. He'd need help.

That's why he'd gone to the motor pool, it was exactly what he needed for his plan to work; there was plenty of space, it could be easily fortified and through the open door he could see the few vehicles that were still sitting outside waiting for repairs. However, none of that interested him; sooner or later people would be drawn to this building for whatever reason, and while that was true of any building on the island he had the feeling that the people most interested in escape would all come here eventually. When they did he would have his chance.

****

Steven slowly approached the injured Victoria. He'd expected that hit to kill her, but that mistake could easily be fixed. He'd hesitated as she'd dove for the gun, afraid that he'd messed up his chance, but she didn't fire, couldn't by the looks of it. Perfect.

"Sorry but it can't be helped. If I'm going to win this game I'm going to need to kill. And I'll need a better weapon of course; this knife just won't cut it in the long run. Your rifle will do nicely though"

She tried to back away from him as he got closer but stopped once he got close enough to kneel down in front of her and grab the rifle from her hands. He threw it out of their reach. Grabbing her hair, he pulled her head back before placing the edge of his knife against her throat. Her shivering causing the blade to cut her skin and a drop of blood ran down over her collar.

"Don't, please"

"It's your own fault really. First lowering your only weapon, then forgetting it completely when you checked the map; you made it so easy for me, even after you were so careful about 'playing it safe'. Oh well, at least you won't have to live with your mistake for too long"

Quickly sliding the blade across her throat, letting the blood run free, he let her go and grabbed the rifle from the ground before walking over and picking up his pack from where he'd left it. He walked back over to where Victoria lay bleeding and opened her pack up as well.

Ignoring the food and water - a too full pack would arouse too much suspicion and he could always get more supplies from the next person he killed if he needed to - he took the weapon manual from the pack as well as all the ammunition that she carried. He spared the now dead Victoria a last glance before standing up to leave, he might as well head to the docks like he'd said. He thought he was most likely right in thinking that no one would head up there yet and it would work to his favour to claim one of the buildings for himself before anyone else could take them.

He backed away from the body, swinging the pack onto his shoulder, and turned to leave only to be stopped in his tracks as white light exploded in his vision and something very solid collide with his forehead.

****

At a little over five feet and quite skinny, Julia Watashi, a.k.a. G10, was not what you would call a very physical person. She wasn't cut out for things like running or jumping or fighting for her life, and as such she knew that her chances in the Battle Royale were minimal at best. Especially seeing as how her assigned weapon, a wooden baseball bat, was next to useless in her hands.

That's why when she first came across the clearing where Steven and Victoria were having their conversation, she hid. She wasn't taking any chances in this game and wouldn't approach anyone so carelessly. That being said, the more she watched them the more she thought that it would be safe to talk to them. She even made to stand from where she was, crouched behind a bush, when Steven suddenly pulled the knife from his back and stabbed Victoria between the shoulder blades. Julia dove from her hiding place to stand behind a tree, the bat clenched tightly in her hands. She watched, too stunned to even move had she even thought she could do anything, as Steven quickly and coldly slit Victoria's throat.

It was a shock, she knew people would be playing the game - she expected it - but to see it first hand was different. Steven had gained her trust so easily, both Victoria's and hers, and then turned so quickly. And now he had Victoria's rifle to go with his knife; someone that dangerous couldn't be left alive. Julia needed to deal with him, now, before he could kill someone else, before he could kill her.

As Steven was distracted with Victoria's pack she quietly moved out from behind the tree. Slowly moving towards his back, she thought that maybe if she could just knock him out, she could just take his weapons away. She panicked as he began to stand up, however, and jumped at him, bringing the wooden bat down on his head as hard as she could as he turned around. She abruptly backed away in shock as he collapsed to the ground and the rifle flew from his grip. Julia moved towards where the rifle had landed, but backed away again as Steven stood up unsteadily and shook his head to clear his thought; he pulled the knife from his belt slowly before suddenly running towards her.

Panicking, Julia swung the bat at his legs, throwing it at him as hard as she could. He fell forward as he ran, his legs tangled around the bat. Seeing the opening, Julia jumped over the fallen Steven, grabbed the rifle and Steven's pack from the ground as she past them, and kept running into the forest.

****

Steven pulled himself to his feet carefully, making sure to give himself enough time for his head to clear first before moving again. It took him a few seconds to realise that Julia was gone, and a few more to notice that she had taken the rifle and his pack with her. Great, now he was right back to square one and there was at least one person out there who knew what he had done and had the chance to tell more people. His plan was falling apart already. In his frustration he kicked the object on the ground in front of him, the item in question bouncing away with a wooden sound. Curious he walked over to pick it up, examining the bat carefully for any damage before allowing a smile to creep across his face. At least this whole ordeal wasn't a total loss.


	7. Fourth Hour 43 Students Remaining

1Fourth Hour – 43 Students Remaining

As he pushed a low lying branch out of his way only to stumble over yet another unseen root instead, B8, a.k.a Chael Tovaras, couldn't help but once again curse his misfortune. Not only had he been kidnapped and thrown onto an island in the middle of nowhere with the express purpose of fighting to the death with his fellow classmates for some sick bastards personal entertainment, but he'd also been screwed out of any chance he might have had of surviving when he was assigned a fucking butter knife as his weapon. On top of all this, his side was still hurting from when Barret stomped on him after he tried to charge him, rewarding him with a fresh stab of pain every time he stumbled or turned too much; he was almost certain by this point that at least one of his ribs had been cracked, if not more.

Even so, he thought that he might still have a chance. He could still move and fight well enough, all he had to do was get his hands on a decent weapon and see how far that got him. There was just one problem with that, however.

"Hey Chael, wait, slow down!"

Chael stopped for a second to allow Trina Nichols, a.k.a G12, time to catch up. They had run into each other not long after she had left the mess hall, while he was still trying to fully catch his breath after Barret knocked the wind out of him. Trina, along with Elliot, were Chael's closest friends at school. The three of them were rarely seen without at least one of the others with them. Upon finding him, she quickly decided it would be best for both of them to team up. While he would much rather have spent his time on the game alone, he couldn't exactly turn her away.

Chael looked down at the large metal pipe wrench that Trina had given him earlier, stating that it was "too heavy" for her to use. It certainly was cumbersome, but he could wield it easily enough. At least with one more person around he was able to get another weapon to replace the butter knife he had discarded earlier. It wasn't much, especially compared to the guns and knives that most other people had probably been given, but at least now he had something to defend himself with.

The problem with her presence stemmed from the fact that Trina absolutely hated violence, especially when it involved one of her friends. This meant that Chael's temper and the frequent fights it led to were a point of contention between them. As such, he usually tried to make an effort not to let his temper get the best of him, at least until she left. All of which meant that as much as he would have liked to take part in the game, if only for the chance of meeting Barret again once he won, he simply couldn't. Not as long as she was around, anyway.

Maybe that was a good thing, though. Back in school, she was always the one that tried to keep Elliot and himself out of trouble. And while it didn't always work, he had to admit that if it wasn't for her, the two of them probably would have been expelled a long time ago. At least while she was with him she would keep him from making rash decisions.

"So, where are we going, anyway?" Chael was broken out of his thoughts and looked to his side to see Trina standing there waiting for an answer.

Removing the map from his pocket, Chael looked it over and considered his options. From the look of things, every important building on the island- especially the newer military buildings- were joined together by one main road. It ran almost the entire length of the island, with several smaller roads branching off of it. They had seen this for themselves earlier and had tried to avoid walking along it due to how exposed it would leave them. Since the beginning of the game the two of them had more or less been wandering north aimlessly. They had crossed a narrow stream at one point, which, if Chael guessed right, should put them somewhere between the motor pool to the south and the warehouse to the north.

"Looks like our only options are the motor pool and the warehouse. Which do you want to go to?" Chael turned the map toward Trina to allow her to read it over his shoulder and pointed out where he thought they were. She pointed out a building closer to the centre of the island.

"Why not just go to the barracks? It's just as close as the other buildings and it would be better to go someplace you can rest up and give your ribs a chance to heal."

"Because it's too obvious. The barracks are the closest building to where we started and a lot of people are going to want to go there for the same reasons you just mentioned. It's close, and people are going to want to go there to rest. If someone isn't there already, then they will be soon enough and I'd rather not take the risk of running into somebody dangerous."

"Okay, okay. Well, since neither of us knows anything about cars, how about we go north? Toward the warehouse?" With this said, Trina swiftly turned away and began walking in the direction of the warehouse, leaving Chael to quickly put the map back in his jacket pocket and hurry to catch up with her. This caused his ribs more undue stress and they gave him a quick stab of pain to remind him to take it slower.

"I hope Elliot is having an easier time of things than we are...."

****

'_Under different conditions this might actually be a nice place to visit.'_

Emerging from the trees along the eastern shore, this was the first thought that ran through the mind of B2, a.k.a Elliot Starlin. Having headed directly west after leaving the mess hall, he now found himself on a beach that stretched as far as he could see in either direction, seemingly covering the entire eastern edge of the island.

After the view, the next thing Elliot noticed was how quiet everything seemed. The open environment, along with the sound of the tide, was a stark contrast to the claustrophobic mass of trees he had just left behind, giving the whole place an eerie stillness to it. Apparently, being the third person to be let out had given him enough of a head start that he was the first to reach this edge of the island. Even with how far he could see in either direction, there wasn't anyone else in view.

The beach itself was almost featureless, the only objects of note being a small wooden pier and an overturned rowing boat which sat next to it. Despite knowing that it would most likely prove pointless, Elliot walked over to the pier in order to get a better look at the boat. Sure enough, upon closer inspection even he could see that the boat would be no use; the wood was clearly rotting away and large holes had been worn clean through in places. Not that it mattered much. Even if it was still capable of being taken out on the water, an escape by sea was obvious enough that there had to be something stopping him. Maybe the collars had a maximum range and they would blow up if he got too far out.

Turning north, Elliot spotted something above the trees. As he got further down the beach, he made it out to be the tip of a building; based on what he saw on the map earlier, it was probably the lighthouse at the top of the island. That seemed as good a place as any to go next, so he began walking along the beach in that direction.

He didn't exactly like being out in the open like this, being this exposed, but it was much faster than trying to make his way through the closed-in trees of the forest. Just to be safe, he removed his supplied weapon, a Colt M1911, from where he hid it at his back and held it by his side. The weight of the pistol made him feel somewhat safer. He removed the magazine from the weapon in a motion he had practiced earlier and checked that it was fully loaded before moving on.

Looking back out to sea, he noticed another problem with the idea of escaping by boat. Namely that there was nowhere to escape _to_. Scanning the horizon, Elliot expected to see land in the distance, or at least a boat or ship; anything other than the open expanse of water that stretched to the edge of his vision. Either this meant that he was simply on the wrong side of the island to see such things, or they were a lot farther from home than any of them realized.

****

To Adrian Starr, a.k.a B21, the barracks were a sight for sore eyes. He'd been running ever since leaving the mess hall - being one of the last ones out meant he had a lot of catching up to do - and his legs were on the verge of collapsing under him. The chance for a rest outweighed the risk of running into another student at this point.

Ignoring the urge to just head straight into the main building, Adrian decided to first walk around the clearing that held the barracks, looking for any outward signs that anyone was already inside. The barracks consisted of two separate buildings. The first was a large, one story building which, when the island was still being used as a military base, would house the soldiers while they were off duty. The second, smaller building turned out to be a bathroom facility, with a shower block taking up one half of the building and bathroom stalls and sinks taking up the other.

Leaving the bathroom facility for now, Adrian walked around to the front of the barracks and approached the aged, iron double doors. They were stuck together with years of rust and disuse, and the old hinges made a loud screeching noise as they gave way, but he got them open.

Entering the barracks, he found himself in a large room which took up almost the entire interior of the building. The room was occupied by plain, metal bunk beds which lined either side of the room, about fifteen in all. Most were either broken or near enough to said state that he didn't want to try sitting on one, but a few appeared intact enough for use.

Adrian threw his pack onto the nearest such bunk, taking the fact that it didn't collapse under the impact as a good sign, and went back to close the doors behind him. They made another loud screech as he pushed them closed and he dragged another bunk over in front of the doors for good measure; at least if anyone tried to get in, he'd hear them.

Walking back over to the bunk, he moved his pack onto the floor and stretched out on the mattress. He felt something digging into his side and put his hand into his pocket, removing his assigned weapon - an army combat knife - and dropping it next to him on the bunk.

While he had the chance, he thought he might as well get some rest; at least until the first announcement woke him up. The way he saw it, most of the others would spend the first part of the game running and fighting. If he instead spent a few hours resting, it would give him an advantage later on. And in this contest that could mean the difference between life and death.


	8. Fifth Hour 43 Student Remaining

Fifth Hour – 43 Students Remaining

Ever since he had left the mass hall and the game had officially started for him, Edward Caldwell, a.k.a. B7, had been mentally preparing himself for the things he expected to encounter in the game. He expected to run into the dead bodies of the classmates he had known for years, people he cared about, he was ready for that. He expected to have those same people attack and try to kill him, the idea still unnerved him, but he was ready for that. He even expected to have to be the one to turn those aforementioned classmates into those bodies; that, he still wasn't ready for, but as he thought of the switchblade that currently sat in his pocket he hoped that he would be when the time came to use it.

Looking up, he could just see the first rays of light hitting the tops of the trees around him; he must have been out here for a while now. He wondered how long it would be until the first announcement was given. Rustling in the trees to his side caught his attention and brought his focus back to the matter at hand. He turned in the direction of the noise and waited quietly for a few seconds to see if it happened again, or if he had simply imagined it, but nothing else came. He retrieved the knife from his pocket and walked toward where the sound had originated from, ducking under any low hanging tree branches to avoid making any noise.

Another sound ahead of him made him stop; whatever had made the sound earlier was just on the other side of the foliage in front of him. Hoping to take whoever or whatever it was by surprise, he quietly pushed aside the branch in front of him and crept forward, holding the knife ahead of him only to freeze in place at the sight of what was on the other side.

Standing about ten feet in front of him was a girl staring transfixed at the sky above her like he had been a minute ago. She turned to face him as he stepped forward, apparently not doing a good enough job of staying quiet, and he was surprised by how small and childlike she looked.

She looked familiar, but Edward couldn't seem to remember her name. She couldn't have been brought to the island with the rest of them, she was far too young to be one of his classmates - but still she looked familiar. After a few seconds, he finally recognised her; Alice Young. It seemed strange that he wouldn't recognise someone from his own class, but then again it was very easy to forget about Alice. He'd remembered seeing her in class and around school. She was a very quiet girl on top of being quite a bit shorter and younger-looking than the other girls of the same age, meaning she tended to go unnoticed in a large group such as in a classroom or school hallway. Seeing her then he wouldn't have thought twice, but here her appearance surprised him. She seemed a harmless, innocent figure that was so out of place given the situation. He realised that he'd basically just been staring at her for the past minute or so, and she'd been staring back just as blankly, so he took a step forward and spoke up.

"Um, Alice? It's me, Elliot. Are you ok?"

Her eyes moved down to his hand and as his followed he realised that he was still holding the knife in front of him. He quickly moved it to his side and tried to hide it from view, slipping it into his pocket as he spoke.

"Don't worry; I don't plan on killing anyone if I don't have to. What weapon did you get?"

Without saying a word, Alice swung her pack round to her side and reached inside of it to retrieve her weapon. Edward tensed just in case she planned to use it on him but relaxed once he saw that all she was given was a pair of bright red boxing gloves.

"Well, that's something at least…"

He couldn't quite place it but something just seemed… off, about Alice. Not the fact that she had yet to say anything, that was pretty normal from what he could remember. No, she was too calm, too subdued, as if she wasn't quite aware of how serious the current situation was. It was possible with the shock of everything that had happened - being kidnapped, seeing Mr Edwards killed and the revelation of being placed in this game - had simply traumatised her. She certainly couldn't be the only one to have that reaction; frankly, he was surprised he was handling things so well. Whatever the case he couldn't just leave her alone out here now that he had found her.

"I don't think it's safe to go anywhere alone in this game. We'd probably have a better chance if we team up; Help each other live through this. What do you say?"

Edward let out and involuntary sigh as, once again, Alice just stared back at him without giving any reaction. He realised that if she really was not responding because she was traumatised, then it would probably be better to just take her with him.

He turned and dropped the pack from his shoulder to the ground so that he was facing sideways to her, opening it up to retrieve the map and compass. He hadn't used them much yet other than to get his bearings at the start of the game, planning on first just getting clear of the starting point before doing anything else, but if he was going to have someone with him it would be a good idea to find somewhere to hole up.

Once he found the items he began pouring over the map and using the compass as a reference. If he had read it correctly at the start of the game he had gone more less south since then, which just put him somewhere beneath the mess hall on the map. He was so absorbed in the details of what he was doing that he didn't spot Alice move out of the corner of his eye.

"Looks like the closing places to us are a doctor's clinic and an old school building. Either one sounds good to me, what do you think?"

While it was probably pointless he felt that he should still ask Alice's opinion on these things. He turned to see how she would respond only to see that she wasn't there anymore. He turned from side to side trying to find her and began to stand up, only for his search to be cut short as he blacked out when something very solid hit him very hard on the back of the head.

****

As Edwards limp body fell to the ground in front of her, Alice Young, a.k.a G9, dropped the now blood-dripping rock from her hand. She knelt down beside his body and reached into his pocket to retrieve his switchblade, holding it up in front of her and pressing the button on the grip to open the blade.

She turned the knife around in her hands, the metal glinting as it caught the growing light from the rising sun, occasionally reflecting her own visage in its surface. It was a much better weapon than the boxing gloves that had been provided for her. She ran her finger along the edge of the blade to test its sharpness, watching as a drop of blood stained the metal.

She turned her attention back to Edward as he began to stir on the ground in front of her, lifting himself up off the ground with one hand and reaching round to the back of his head with the other. Before he could fully regain his senses however, he fell back to the ground as Alice drove the switchblade into his lower back and pain erupted across his body.

As Alice pulled the knife out of him, he pushed himself over onto his back and began trying to crawl backwards away from her. He gave up, however, as she just stood up and walked the small distance he had managed to cover. He could feel his blood slowly running out onto the dirt below him as he lay there looking up at his attacker.

"Why do this?"

"Can't be helped. Those are just the rules of the game. It was nice of you to try and help me but I need a good weapon more than I need a protector"

As she said this she raised the hand holding the switchblade above her head and brought it down, piecing Edward's chest. His eyes opened wide in shock as he felt the his chest get tighter and it became harder to breath. He looked back up at Alice to see her staring back at him.

"If you were of more use to me I would have let you live"

With that Edward's head fell backwards and his breathing stopped, though blood still leaked out the wound in his chest past the knife. Alice pulled the switchblade out of his chest and wiped the blood off on his shirt before closing the blade and putting it in her pocket. She walked over to where her pack lay and picked it back up, leaving the boxing gloves lying on the ground, and walking off through the trees.

****

Heather Richardson, a.k.a G17, was looking out of the doorway of the building she was currently taking refuge in when the first rays of light hit her. The sun finally rising high enough above the horizon that it could shine on the west side of the island. She shielded her eyes with her hand as the light prevented her from seeing anything before giving up and retreating back inside.

It had been maybe an hour or so since she had found the church, time she had since spent exploring it and the surrounding area to make sure she was completely safe for the time being. So far she had only found two ways in; the large front, wooden doors, which she had left open for now, and a smaller door at the back which she had closed shut with a wooden beam that slid into place. An old fashioned method but she doubted anyone would be getting in that way. Unless they had an axe or a chainsaw or something. Quickly dispelling that unpleasant thought, Heather tried to occupy her mind by looking around the inside of the church once more to see if she missed anything important earlier.

The church was fairly average in appearance, though smaller than many of the ones she'd seen. It had the high ceiling and stained-glass windows complete with poorly rendered visages of saints, at least she assumed that's what they were supposed to be, that was usual of most churches. At the front sat a raised platform on which stood the altar, facing which were several rows of pews, enough to seat maybe twenty or thirty people. At the back of the church, to the side of the platform, was a wooden door which led to the back rooms of the church. They included a small office, a storage closet and a hallway with the door she had blocked off earlier.

Heather walked back over to the front of the church by the altar where she had left her pack. She sat down next to it and checked her watch; there was less than half an hour until the first announcement was broadcast and she would find out which, if any, of the other students had died.

She dreaded it, not because she feared that someone she cared about might be on the list, but more the possibility that it would confirm that people were indeed going along with the idea of killing each other. She realised people would be scared, afraid of dying and tempted to kill if it meant they might live but she still refused to believe anybody would actually do it. She realised that if the announcement came on and nobody had died then she knew that it would be okay, that nobody would feel threatened and nobody would be forced to play this twisted game.

But, if even one person gave in, if one person started killing, then it would force others to play as well. After that it was only a matter of time before they all wound up dead. Heather reached into the open pack next to her and pulled her weapon into her lap, the serrated edge of the hacksaw's blade looking ugly and wicked to her eyes. If that happened, she would be forced to do something she'd rather not.


	9. Sixth Hour 42 Students Remaining

Two notes to make before the chapte. First, I wasn't able to get in touch with my usual beta reader for this chapter so if there are a few errors in it I apologise. Second, I have exams coming up over the next three weeks so I might not get the next chapter for a while.

Sixth hour – 42 Students Remaining

The control room that had been set up in the now empty storage area of the mess hall was a small and simple arrangement. Something designed to do what it needed to and nothing more. Something that could be assembled and disassembled at a moments notice. An array of computer screens lit up the otherwise dim room, keeping track of student movement, vital signs or otherwise just showing various displays from the cameras around the island. A number of technicians monitoring the information and videos while a group of armed soldiers monitored them.

Things were especially busy at the moment, with technicians running from computer to computer, making sure that all the information and displays from the island were up to date and correct. It was nearing the six hour mark which meant that it was almost time for the first announcement and everyone wanted to get it right. There had been a few problems in the test stages with cameras showing displays of half an hour or more behind the rest and some collars saying that the wearer was dead when they were still alive or alive when they were dead.

A few minutes before six Barret walked into the room and approached a console that had been arranged just for him, consisting of nothing more than a single display monitor showing various parts of the island in turn with a microphone sitting in front of it for him to give his announcements on. As he stood in front of it one of the technicians walked over and handed him a piece of paper with the list of who had been killed in the last six hours written on it. He looked it over briefly before pressing down on the button that would turn on the mic and allow his voice to be heard through the various speakers placed across the island.

"Good morning boys and girls rise and shine. I know most of you are probably tired after an eventful night but it's too soon to rest yet. It's a new day, the sun is rising and it's time to really get this Battle Royale started"

He let that last sentence hang for a few moments, making sure all of the students had time to give him their full attention before continuing.

"Speaking of getting things started, looks like some of you decided to get an early advantage last night, meaning with have some deaths to announce"

He cleared he throat ostentatiously and held the list of the dead in front of him before reading off the first name.

"The first death of the day, and the game, was G8: Victoria Adams, who died of blood loss after a slit throat. A poor showing considering the weapon we gave her, maybe the new owner will put it to better use. She was followed a couple f hours later by B7: Edward Caldwell, who died of a combination of blood loss and organ damage after being stabbed though the chest, with his own knife no less.

"Before I carry on I'm going to give you guys some advice, because, frankly, looking at these deaths it looks like you need it. Don't. Trust. Anyone. Both of these people died because they were stabbed in the back by people they thought they could trust. Literally. If you're in a situation where you don't know if you can trust someone, better to shoot first and worry about whether it was right or not on the ride home"

He turned the page over in his hands and saw that those were indeed the only deaths so far.

"Looks like that it for now. Can't say I'm impressed so far, these deaths were hardly original and there aren't nearly enough names on this list. Where's the violence, where's the gore, where's the depravity? People say today's youth are more desensitised to violence, more dangerous and more fucked up than ever before, but I'm just not seeing it. I hope to see some improvement in the next six hours"

Just as Barret was about to turn off the microphone another technician approached him and handed him another sheet a paper.

"Hold on folks, looks like we have a late entry to add to the list of deceased"

That was it, it was all over, and the announcement confirmed it. Two people had been killed in the last six hours; meaning one, maybe two people had given in and decided to play this twisted game. More would follow, it was only natural. It was only a matter of time before people started to realise what this announcement meant. That with actual killers on the island the only chance anyone had to get home would be to kill as well.

Heather Richardson, a.k.a. G17, was ahead of the game in that respect. She already knew what the announcement meant and knew what she had to do because of it. She lifted her weapon up to examine it; the hacksaw wasn't exactly the perfect weapon, it really wasn't a weapon at all, but its jagged edged blade could be lethal if used properly and it would do well enough for what she had planned.

She lowered the saw shakily with one hand and pressed its blade again the wrist of her other arm. She hesitated before going any further, the last thing she wanted to do was just give up, but she could see no other option at the moment, this is what had to happen.

She pressed the hacksaw harder against her wrist, wincing as the teeth dug into her skin and drew blood. She couldn't bring herself to kill anyone, and staying around while more and more people died around her; while more and more names were read out on those announcements with callous disregard for the people they represented would be too much to bear. No, the sooner she did this the sooner she would be out of this hellhole, and then there would be one less person that some unfortunate fellow student had to kill.

She dragged the blade across her wrist, moving it back and forth in a sawing motion to cut a deep as possible, failing to stifle an involuntary cry as the toothed blade tore open the arteries. She swapped the saw into her left hand, trying to steady it as she already began to feel a little lightheaded from the pain and blood loss. She repeated the action on her other wrist, not being able to cut as deep due to how weak and unsteady her blood-soaked left hand now was, but still deep enough to open the arteries. She let both arms drop and hit the floor, the clattering or the saw sounding dull in her ears as she tried to figure out how long it would take for her to bleed to death.

In the distance she could still hear Barret's voice coming out of the speakers that had been placed inside the church, at least it sounded like he had finished reading out names and was now just wrapping up. She had stopped paying attention after the first two names was read out; one was all it would take anyway. She wondered how many had been killed so far, not too many she hoped. Then her thoughts drifted and she wondered when her name would be read out, if she died before the announcement was finished would they read it out now? Or would they just wait for the next one six hours from now?

It was taking too long for her to bleed out; she must have done it wrong. Shouldn't have done the wrists, left herself to much time to think, should have done the throat instead. She looked down at her wrists and the small pools of blood that had collected around them; her vision was blurred and was beginning to darken around the edges. She tried to move her arms but found she barely had the strength to move at all and any attempt to do so only made it harder to breath. It wasn't long after that when the blood finally stopped leaking from her cuts and she stopped breathing entirely.

"Hold on folks, looks like we have a late entry to add to the list of deceased. G17: Heather Richardson, death by blood loss after slitting her own wrists, I guess she was as depressed as I was to see how slowly this game is going. Seriously though people, I appreciate the enthusiasm; I ask for more death and you give it to me, but this isn't what I meant. You're supposed to kill each other, not yourselves. Suicide is not the way to win this game. Well, that's three dead in six hours; let's see if you can improve on that before the next announcement"

As the first announcement of the game finished and the white noise coming from the speakers died down, Gerald Smith, a.k.a. B10, crossed Heather's name off of his student list. Three people dead already, looks like at least somebody was willing to kill, and probably many more that just hadn't gotten the chance yet.

Still, Gerald had more pressing matters to worry about at the moment. He had been waiting in the woods near the motor pool, just outside the line of sight of anyone who might be inside. He'd been there for the past hour or so just watching, trying to determine if anyone had gotten there before him. He hadn't seen anyone yet but if he was wrong it could mean the end for him, seeing as how he wasn't exactly 'blessed' when it came to weapons. Sure the Taser was a decent weapon up close and could be used to bring someone down someone a lot bigger than himself, but it was useless if they had a gun or a weapon with any sort of reach.

He ran from his hiding place towards the nearest vehicle in the parking lot outside, an old army jeep with the hood propped open, and crouched behind it. He'd wasted enough time already, he came here to fix up a vehicle, maybe find some tools to use as a weapon, and then get the hell out. If anyone was inside he'd just have to take that risk and deal with them if he had to.

He ran forward to the next vehicle in line and crouched behind it again before waiting a few minutes, continuing this pattern until he had reached his goal, a large army transport truck. It was the only vehicle on the lot that wasn't visibly missing parts, plus it would offer the most security once he got it moving. He checked the back quickly, though it was unsurprisingly empty, before moving towards the passenger side door and climbing in, lying down across the seats and reaching under the steering column. If he could hotwire a car, he couldn't see a reason why he shouldn't be able to hotwire this thing.

"He sure likes to hear the sound of his own voice"

Isaac Holmes, a.k.a. B5, was relieved to hear the end of Barret's announcement and for the speakers to finally turn themselves off again. He had listened close to who had died and how but everything after that was just distracting background noise.

He had spent the past couple of hours since he had moved into the main building of the motor pool in the back office, trying to decide who he should trust with this plan of his. Which people had the skills and intelligence to help him come up with and then execute a plan to get off this island? Luckily the last announcement hadn't made him revise his current list as none of those people had died. True, Heather was a smart girl, maybe that was why she killed herself rather than sticking around, but she lacked any skills that would be useful to him.

He was disturbed from his thoughts by the sounds of something moving outside, he listened carefully and heard another sound a minute or so later, this time a little closer. He grabbed his shotgun from the desk in front of him and began slowly moving outside. This was the first time he had seen the lot outside the garage clearly, having arrived when it was still dark, and the first thing he noticed was the large truck at the far side with someone clearly in the cab.

He approached the truck until he could clearly see into the cab and the person inside; they appeared to be trying to pry the covering off of the steering column. He cocked the barrel of his shotgun loudly to gain their attention and all sounds and movement inside the cab stopped.

"Throw out your weapons and come out slowly with your hands where I can see them"

Isaac trained his shotgun on the inside of the truck cab and made sure to keep it steady as the person reached down towards their waist and pulled something from their pocket before throwing it out onto the ground in front of him. He looked down quickly to see what looked like an ordinary Taser. When he looked back up the person was holding their arms above them and slowly sat up in the seat before sliding out of the truck onto the ground to stand before him.

"Gerald. I should have known if anyone was trying to steal a car it would be you"

"Isaac Holmes. So what now, are you going to shoot me or what?"

It was tempting; Gerald was psychotic enough to kill in this game and, despite what his test scores in school said, smart enough to get away with it. If he had gotten something better than that Taser he could very well have won; he probably still could, it would just take longer.

Still, he could be put to use, he had skills that were useful. Such as being able to hotwire or fix pretty much any vehicle, maybe including the ones here on the lot. It was also fair to assume that he would be good with machinery in general, and there was no telling if that might come in handy or not.

Gerald may have had it in him to kill, but he was still a fairly reasonable person, maybe if he could be convinced there was another way off the island he might be persuaded to help him.

"I'd prefer not to; might need the bullets later. What would you say if I said I had a proposition for you instead?"

"I'd say 'what kind of teenager uses words like 'prefer' and 'proposition''?"

Isaac let out a sigh at Gerald's reply. He never expected this to be easy. "So much for formality. Okay then Gerald, I'll put this in terms even you can understand. I want to get the fuck off this island, and I want you to help me do it. I want to break out of this finely crafted game of theirs, the one they are so sure is inescapable, if only to prove that it can be done and to piss them off. Though living through this would be a pretty nice benefit as well. What do you say?"

"What makes you think that can even be done?"

"Nothing, we probably can't, at least not by ourselves. But if we get the right group of people together then who knows?"

"Can you promise you won't shoot me in the back?"

"Can you promise you won't give me a reason to?"

"Probably not. Okay then, I'm in. Now get that gun the fuck out of my face"


	10. Seventh Hour 41 Students Remaining

Seventh Hour – 41 Students Remaining

He wanted to be a doctor. That was probably what he would have become if this game hadn't come along, or perhaps a vet. Bottom line is he wanted to help people, to heal people, and he certainly didn't want to hurt people. He was fairly certain what this game wanted him to do would go against the Hippocratic Oath.

For Daniel Lancaster, a.k.a. B9, the game was not simply asking him to kill his classmates, it was asking him to go completely against what he believed in and what he wanted to do in life.

At least they had seen their way to giving them first aid kits, that was a welcome sign, and one that meant he might still be able to help people. Every piece of equipment in there was something he recognised, either from seeing them in use when visiting his parents at the hospital or from the various medical books he'd grown up reading. It was stuff he knew and could use if he had to. Of course, that would just delay the inevitable; he could only try to help for so long; he could only try to help for so long. Sooner or later it was going to come down to kill or be killed and he wasn't sure he was ready for either.

Almost as soon as he thought this, however, he heard the sound of leaves rustling followed by faint footsteps behind him. He quickly stepped off of the path he was walking and took cover behind the widest tree he could find. The trail he had been traversing was man-made and the ground on either side was slightly lower, meaning that when the person walked past his hiding place the first thing he saw was the gun in their jean pocket.

Looking up at the person properly he saw the familiar face of Tim Scotts, a.k.a. B12. The gun had startled Daniel but he knew that he didn't have anything to worry about as long as it was Tim in charge of pulling the trigger. For as long as Daniel had known him, Tim had never made a violent action against anyone. Daniel stepped out from behind the tree slightly and called out to the boy.

"Hey, Tim. Over here."

It was risky, he didn't know the guy that well and there was a chance that the game had gotten to him, but he figured he could use at least one ally in all this insanity. Tim drew his gun and began looking around uncertainly for whoever had just called him. Daniel called out again and Tim found him amoung the trees and pointed the gun straight at him.

For a second Daniel thought that he had miscalculated, that Tim was just going to shoot him and that would be it. But, after a moment, Tim lowered the gun and Daniel let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Tim held the gun by his side but Daniel noticed that he hadn't put it away yet. Tim then stepped over to the edge of the trail and crouched down before extending a hand towards Daniel.

"Hey Dan, need a hand?"

Tim lowered the gun slowly, still waiting for the inevitable attack to come, but it never did. He relaxed slightly as Daniel took his hand and allowed himself to be pulled up back onto the path. He guessed that meant Daniel could be trusted, or that he wasn't playing the game, at least. If He really wanted to kill him, he probably would have simply jumped him from his hiding place. Catching his attention like this was not the best murdering strategy.

"Thanks man, for a second there I thought you were going to shoot me" Daniel admitted with a nervous smile.

"For a second, so did I" At this Daniel's expression changed to one with less of a smile and more nervousness, before he shook his head and snapped himself out of it.

"Damn it, this is just crazy man. I was going to be a doctor, a surgeon. I don't want to hurt people, and I know you don't either. What do you say we team up instead? We have a better chance of surviving this if we work together, and that way I can patch up you or anyone else we find that's hurt.

"Besides, I don't think I could hurt anyone with this if I tried" Daniel reached down and removed a plastic tube from his waist that Tim didn't notice earlier. He held it up and flicked a switch on the side which cause the blade of the plastic, toy lightsaber to glow bright blue. Tim couldn't help but let out a little laugh at the sight of the 'weapon' that Daniel had been given.

Daniel switched it off and clipped it back onto his waistband. "So what do you say?"

"Hey man, have you ever seen me hurt _anything_? I don't want to play this game any more than you do, you're on" With this Tim put his gun back in his pocket and extended his hand to Daniel again, who shook it without hesitation. "So where do we go from here?"

"I don't know. The barracks are the closest place to here, but there's probably somebody in there already. Though, to be fair I don't any place on this island can be called 'safe' anymore"

"Sounds good, though you better let me go in first and check the place out" Tim stepped past Daniel on the path in the direction of the barracks, pulling his revolver out again. "I don't think the force is going to be much use here"

Daniel shook his head and followed after Tim. "How many more of those kinds of jokes am I going to have to put up with before this thing is over?"

"Probably quite a few"

Jacob's hand hovered over the handle of the front door of the barracks. He needed to get inside, but he didn't want to alert anyone in there to the fact he was coming, especially not if they had a gun and could pick him off as soon as he stuck his head inside. Instead he lowered his hand and began walking around the side of the building, searching for any potential back doors or windows he could use before he risked the direct approach.

He found his way in in the form of a window which lead into one of the private rooms at the back of the building, the glass having long been broken and the lock rusted enough to be easily removed. He lifted his chainsaw through the frame first and dropped it onto the bed below the window to make things easier before carrying himself through as well. Picking it up again, he cautiously opened the door and stepped out into the main room of the building.

For Jacob Vayle, a.k.a. B19, this was a second chance. He had already let the first person he had found elude him; he lost track of the girl, whoever she had been, in the forest and had been unable to find her again. However, this time would be different; there would be no running. His target was trapped in the building with him, sealed in by his own barricades. He approached the bunk at the far end of the room which held the sleeping body of Adrian Starr, a.k.a. B21, and stood over him. This one wouldn't even get a chance to run; he'd be dead before he even knew what had happened.

Jacob pulled the start cord and the chainsaw roared to life as he brought the blade down on the prone form of Adrian Starr, hoping to get a quick kill before he could react. Sadly, Adrian was faster, waking up as soon as he heard the engine start and instinctively throwing himself off the bed to the floor just as the chain began chewing through the mattress.

Adrian rolled to the side and stood up before pulling his combat knife from his pocket just as Jacob was beginning to recover and managed to free his saw of the now ruined bunk. Adrian sized up his opponent; tall and gangly, Jacob didn't look anywhere near as solidly built as the athletic Adrian, and in a fair fight the jock would probably win. But as it was, Adrian only had one small knife compared to Jacob's deadly engine-driven chainsaw.

The two students faced each other, neither one moving, the only sound the constant chugging of the chainsaw's petrol engine. Jacob moved first, stepping around the bunk and making a big swipe at Adrian with his weapon, trying to drive him back against the wall or into the corner, but Adrian just dodged to the side and stepped back into the centre of the room. Adrian lunged for Jacob side as he tried to recover from his attack but he managed to bring the chainsaw up between them quickly and halt Adrian's advance.

The two continued to trade blows for some time. Jacob making small, slow slashes and stabbing forward with the saw, rather than just swinging widely as most people would, while Adrian tried to manoeuvre his knife around the saw but was always forced to retreat as Jacob cut him off. Adrian was having a harder time of it however, as each time he deflected a blow with his weapon, the force of the spinning chain threatened to rip the knife from his hands.

The fight carried on until Jacob made one particularly forceful stab, which allowed Adrian to dodge and run around him, making sure to slash at the other students arm as he went past. Jacob grimaced as he felt the knife cut into his bicep and the blood begin to run from the wound. He was vaguely aware of Adrian running past him and swung his other arm holding the chainsaw round in the other direction, barely catching the athlete in the leg and sending him tumbling as the chain tore into his flesh. He stood up and slowly walked towards the fallen student.

Adrian lifted himself on both arms and pulled his uninjured leg under him and stood unsteadily. He had been aiming for the door, but now it looked farther away than ever. He examined at his leg and winced as he saw the damage; it wasn't particularly deep, the chain only having made the briefest contact, but it still looked pretty bad.

He pushed himself off the ground and stood as best he could on one leg, moving as quickly as possible towards the door, just remembering to grab his pack as he went. He could here Jacob slowly getting closer behind him as he reached the door and realised that it was still closed and the bunk he'd pushed in front of it was still in place. How had Jacob gotten in? Was there a window, or even a back door? Was he really so dumb as to not check for either?

A quick glance over his shoulder told him Jacob was far too close for comfort. He grabbed the corner of the bunk and lifted it, throwing it away from the door and between the two of them. He grasped the handle and pulled as hard as he could, the door scraping open just enough for him to squeeze through as Jacob was disentangling himself from the bunk. He hobbled away from the barracks, his leg stinging with every step but not enough to make him want to stop just yet.

Inside, Jacob had managed to get clear of the bunk and was now standing at the opening in the door, watching as yet another potential victim escaped him. His current method of seeking people out didn't seem to be working, so perhaps a new strategy was in order. He would leave the door slightly open as it was, and set himself up in one of the back rooms rather than out here, and wait for the next person to come to him. Whoever next came into the barracks would not be leaving alive.

Steven Ambrose, a.k.a. B3, looked out from his hiding place at the clearing, or more specifically the object the sat in the centre and dominated all attention in the area. It wasn't much to look at, just the husk of an old airplane in the middle of a grassy field, most likely one that had been flying to or from the airfield further north of here. What made it interesting, however, was the fact that anybody who hid in that plane would have a perfect view of anybody trying to sneak up on them.

Steven reached behind him to check that the knife was still in the back of his belt and hidden from sight and tightened his grip on the baseball bat in his hands. He stepped out from his hiding place and into the field. Taking the fact that he wasn't shot immediately as a good sign, he pressed forward, crouching low as he neared the plane. As he crept along the side of the wrecked fuselage, he made note of how large it seemed to be; most likely it was a transport plane in its former life, albeit a small one, and would probably have plenty of room inside. He reached a part of the wreck where a large enough hole had been torn in the side that someone could climb through easily and paused briefly before taking a deep breath and stepping through.

As soon as he was clear of the hole and had stood up, however, he felt something cold and metal being pressed against the side of his head that he assumed was the barrel of a loaded gun. He held his breath as he waited for the person to pull the trigger and was taken off-guard as a deep voice spoke to him.

"Don't move. Put you hands where I can see them"


	11. Eighth Hour 41 Students Remaining

Eighth Hour – 41 Students Remaining

"Don't move. Put your hands where I can see them"

Steven Ambrose, a.k.a. B3, stood frozen as he heard the voice say these words, though that was less to do with the order itself and more to do with the gun currently pressed firmly against his temple. He held his hands out in front of him where they could be seen but was hesitant to let go of the wooden baseball bat in his hands that at the moment felt like his only lifeline.

His assailant apparently felt the same way however, judging by the next action. Steven felt the pressure on his head disappear and heard a footstep as his attacker took a step back and spoke again. "Drop the weapon and stand up slowly. Try anything and I won't hesitate to shoot you"

Reluctantly, Steven let go of the bat, letting it drop to the floor where it clattered noisily against the metal. He had needed to crouch down slightly when he came through the opening in the side of the plane and as such was standing partially hunched over when the gun had been pointed at him. He started to stand up slowly and turned towards the person as he did so. The first thing he saw was the muzzle of the gun still pointed straight at him, so close that he could see the rifling inside the barrel. He looked past this to the person's hand. Looking higher, he followed the length of their arm up to their head, upon which he found himself looking into the familiar face of B20, a.k.a. Gavin Matthews.

Aside from the fact they shared a homeroom together for the past year or so, Steven really did not know anything about the boy standing before him. Gavin's face was set in a hard expression that let him know that this was all business; there was no friendliness in the way he spoke or the unwavering way he pointed the gun straight at Steven's chest.

"You wouldn't happen to have been responsible for any of those names Barret read out, would you?" Gavin's question was straight forward and took Steven a little by surprise, but he recovered quickly enough to answer without suspicion.

_Actually, I was. But he honestly doesn't expect me to give an honest answer, does he?_

"An ironic question coming from the guy pointing the gun. That last one killed herself so you can hardly pin that one on me, and the first two were stabbed to death. Do you see a knife anywhere on me? The only thing I've got is the bat at my feet" _And the knife hidden at my back but you won't see that until it's too late_

"How about you? How do I know you haven't killed anyone yet Gavin?"

"Surprisingly enough, your sorry face is the only one I've seen tonight. No, I haven't killed anyone, _yet_"

"Well then I don't see any reason why we can't be civil to one another. I've already given up my weapon, so why don't you do the same and lower the gun? You don't have to put it away or anything, just stop pointing it at me" Steven tried to sound as friendly as possible as he said this, taking a step forward to close the distance between Gavin and himself. In response, Gavin took another step back and raised the gun from Steven's chest to his head.

"How about you just leave instead?"

"Okay, okay, I'll just leave" Steven raised his hands in a placatory manner and began to turn to leave. He reached behind his back as he did so and put his hand on the handle of the knife, quickly spinning around to complete the turn full circle and slash at Gavin.

Gavin fell backwards in surprise and managed to avoid being killed by the swipe at his neck, but instead had the gun knocked from his hands. He landed hard on the floor but recovered quickly, his hand soon finding the gun again and fumbling to pick it up.

Steven saw this and stopped before approaching Gavin's prone form. His plan had been to either kill him with the first strike or close the distance when he was still off balance, but seeing Gavin so close to getting his gun back made him think twice. He instead decided to leave as soon as he could before Gavin recovered enough to shoot him. He started walking backwards towards the door, finding the bat with his feet on the way out and picking it up.

"It's your lucky day Gavin. I've decided to let you live a little longer" He then dashed out of the hole in the side of the plane that he had entered through and continued running until he was safely through the trees and the edge of the field.

Back in the plane, Gavin was seething. He had allowed Steven to get the drop on him and had almost died because of it, it was only by pure luck that he hadn't. He looked down at his hand and the gash Steven had made across the back of it. It hurt like Hell and was bleeding profusely, but he could still move the appendage well enough as evidenced by the tight grip he held on his gun. Steven could have finished him off, should have done so. He would make him regret the fact that he didn't.

"I don't know what makes you think you get to decide where we go. You're not the leader of this group"

"I'm not trying to be. I'm just saying that I think this would be the best place to go so we can wait this whole thing out"

"Well I don't. And who says we want to wait this thing out anyway?"

"We are not killing anyone. If we do that then we're just going to get ourselves killed. We only have one decent weapon between the four of us and none of us know a thing about guns. We should just go to the clinic and barricade ourselves inside until this whole thing blows over"

"And if it doesn't?"

_They have been arguing back and forth like this for a while now. It's slowed down our progress considerably and the noise can only attract larger threats to the area. Why did I join up with these people again?_

Alice Young, a.k.a. G9, stood on the edge of the small clearing in the woods while two of the members of her new group, G15, a.k.a. Amber Woods, and G4, a.k.a. Brianna Hughes, were engaged in a heated argument in the centre. One that had been going on far too long.

This had been a constant theme for the two of them ever since Alice had become a part of the group. They had been arguing then as well, when she first met them, although back then it was about whether or not she could be trusted.

She was still uncertain of the chain of events that led to this moment. When the three of them had emerged from the trees as she was leaving the scene of her first kill of the game, still within sight of the body, she was sure that she was dead. But, somehow, for whatever reason, that didn't happen. What occurred instead was a debate between Amber and Brianna about whether or not they should take her with them or shoot her in the head.

The first few moments after the group first saw Alice were tense. Their eyes making there way from her face, to the knife in her hand, to the very obviously dead body of Edward Caldwell behind her. It didn't take them long to connect the dots and before Alice could react she found herself at the wrong end of a sub-machine gun.

That's right the gun, that is why she joined the group. While the switchblade she took from Edward was a vast improvement over her own given weapon, a set of boxing gloves, it was nothing compared to the Mac-10 machine gun that belonged to G18, a.k.a. Sandra Clark, the last member of the group. The gun offered a security that she could not give herself, not with her current weapon. That's why she agreed to join up with them.

Sandra was currently pacing around the edge of the small clearing, holding the gun in front of her with both hands and peering into the trees surrounding them, keeping a watchful eye while the other two bickered. Alice found it odd that Sandra never took part in these arguments herself, always content to just go along with whatever was decided in the end. Alice could only conclude that she was more used to following than thinking; she had never really paid much attention to their group in school, much less its hierarchy, but she had the feeling that Sandra definitely wasn't the leader.

It had been the same back then as well. Sandra just stood in front of her dutifully, pointing the gun straight at her, while the other two discussed what was to become of her. Not once did she contribute anything to the conversation in favour of either option. Amber tried to talk to her then, find out what had happened between her and Edward while Brianna still insisted that they just shoot her now.

"There's just something off about her. She looks like she doesn't even care that she just stabbed someone to death" Brianna looked over at her as she said this, either not knowing or not caring that she could hear her.

"It's called Post Traumatic Stress. You'd have it too if you were forced to kill someone. Let's at least find out what happened before we decide anything"

"You do that. Don't say I didn't warn you when she decides to go after you next"

_For what it's worth, I think Brianna had the right idea. Taking someone into your group when you know they are a killer, for whatever reason, is a bad idea. If they can kill once, they can kill again. Not that I'm complaining of course._

Amber had approached her while she was distracted by the gun in front of her and had gently taken hold of her arm, the one that still held the knife, so that attacking her with it would be difficult. Maybe she was aware of how potentially dangerous this was after all. Amber bent down slightly so she was at eye level with Alice and spoke softly to her, as if worried anything louder would provoke something.

"Um… Alice was it? Why did you attack that guy?" Apparently the fact that she _had_ killed him was obvious enough that it didn't warrant a question.

"Because I had to" In the sense that they were being made to compete in this game against their will this was a truthful answer. Though, if Amber decided to take it another way that was her business.

"You mean… it was self-defence?" Amber looked over Alice's shoulder and stared at something behind her, presumably the body of the late Edward. Again, I suppose you could call what happened as self-defence. If you took self preservation to mean the same as self-defence, anyway.

Alice nodded slightly and this seemed to be enough for Amber as she released a sigh. It seemed like she was hoping for such an answer. She stood back up to her full height, which was a few inches taller than Alice before turning to face Brianna. "We're taking her with us"

Brianna gave an exaggerated shrug which used all of her arms and rolled her eyes resignedly. "Fine. Whatever. But she's your responsibility and anything she does is your fault"

Focusing her attention back on the situation at hand, Alice saw that little if any headway had been made in her mental absence. Amber and Brianna had yet to reach an agreement as to where the group should head to next.

It was an interesting dynamic the two had. The group was without its usual leader, seeing as Jennifer was nowhere to be found, and Brianna, being the ambitious one, had seemingly made herself leader of the small group. Even though she had no real idea how to lead, she took all suggestions to this from people hostilely. Amber was obviously the brains of the group but, having no desire to lead, let Brianna take charge and instead tried to influence her to the right course of action. Which usually just ended up in arguments such as this one.

"Look, let's just go to the clinic. It's one of the closest buildings anyway and even though the island was cleared out before we got here you never know if they might have left something useful. It's worth checking out and you know it. If you still don't like it when you get there, we can still go somewhere else"

Brianna seemed to think this over for a while before finally giving in. "Fine, we'll go. Maybe there's some aspirin there that can get rid of this headache you're giving me"

With this the group finally began to move on again, this time in the direction of the clinic. Brianna may have claimed she was the leader, but it was easy to see where the real leadership came from.

The lighthouse stood at the north-easternmost corner of the island on a tiny peninsula of land that stuck out from the rest of the cliff face here. The peninsula was also higher than the rest of the land around it, leaving the trail leading from the main island to the lighthouse to slope upwards slightly towards it.

This is where Elliot Starlin, a.k.a. B2, currently stood. At the far end of the trail looking up at the lighthouse from where he stood next to a small cottage he presumed had belonged to the lighthouse keeper. It took him longer than he predicted to walk the seemingly short distance along the edge of the island to the lighthouse. He had made it to the top of the island almost an hour ago only to find himself standing at the base of the cliff that he now stood atop of and had been forced to find a way around.

He checked the cottage first, to see what he could find, but came out empty handed. There were only two rooms, the first a large kitchen with an old, wooden table large enough to seat four in its centre. The second was a small bedroom which held two single beds with a set of drawers next to each one. The place was obviously designed to be functional rather than comfortable and the only items he found of any worth were a few metal pots and pans and half a loaf of stale bread, both of which he left behind.

Turning his attention back to the lighthouse, Elliot began to walk along the short trail to its door. As he stood in front of it he couldn't help but think how much smaller it was than he thought. It was almost three storeys tall, not including the light on top, but it was very thin. The interior couldn't have held much more than the staircase leading to the top. He pushed open the wooden door, wincing slightly as it creaked loudly, and stepped inside. Scanning the inside, he could see that he was right; the interior of the building held nothing more than a simple, metal staircase that lead up to the top. It looked newer than the rest of the building so he assumed it was added in after the military took over.

He coughed slightly from the dust heavy in the air and moved towards the staircase. Pulling his gun from his pocket, he began to climb the stairs, the weapon aimed in front and above him as a precaution.

Being the tallest standing structure on the island, those who stood on the balcony surrounding the light at the top were offered a view of most of the island. From it one could see all the way down the eastern shore for most of its length until it began to curve away as it joined with the southern shore. One could also see most of the northern edge of the island, at least those parts which weren't blocked from view by cliffs and other obstructions. One could see many of the buildings on the island, from the docks that lay just west of the lighthouse in a small bay, to the collection of warehouses that were just south of it, to the airfield that say west of the docks at the far end of the island.

This was what Jennifer Martin, a.k.a. G1, saw as she stood atop the lighthouse, leaning against the railing of the balcony that went around the top of the building. She looked out over the island, deep in thought as she turned her weapon over in her hands. That is if you could even call a plastic Frisbee a weapon. When she had first seen how high up the balcony was she could help but be overcome by an urge to throw it away, if only to see how far it went, but she resisted. As pathetic as it was she was sure it had some uses.

She had come into this game planning to win. From the moment that she had heard what they were supposed to do she knew she could not allow herself to die, and especially not to be killed. She would survive because she deserved to win. That was why she never met up with the rest of her group; Amber, Brianna, Sandra. They didn't need to be a part of what she was going to do. Sure they would die anyway, but she didn't have to be the one to kill them. Of course, luck of the draw had screwed over her plans by giving her a useless piece of plastic rather than something useful. Oh well, it would just make her eventual victory all the more impressive.

Looking down at the disk in her hand, she caught sight of some movement just behind it. She lowered her hands and looked down at the end of the trail near to the cottage she had not seen when she first arrived last night. Just exiting from the door of the small building was another student, a boy, though she could not quite remember his name.

Jennifer quickly ducked down, dropping to the floor and crawling away from the edge before he could see her. Hopefully, he would just go the other way and she wouldn't have to deal with him. Even if he did not have a decent weapon she hardly had the physique for fighting someone hand to hand. All the more reason why she needed to get her hands on a gun. She waited quietly for a few minutes without hearing a sound before taking another look. Crawling back to the edge, she peered over the side only to discover he was no longer there. She breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed, only to jump to an even higher state of panic as she heard the door below her creak open and someone start coughing.

Trying to calm herself, Jennifer walked over to the hatch that opened up onto the stairs and looked inside. Sure enough, there he was, halfway up the stairs and looking out of one of the windows that were positioned every storey or so when the staircase flattened out into a platform. She pulled back before he could see her and started thinking. Perhaps she could rush past him, before he got a chance to react, maybe even push him over the banister and kill him. She looked down the hatch again and saw that he was much closer, only one storey down now. Now that he was closer she could see him more clearly though the only think her eyes truly saw was the gun that he held in one hand. With that, things became a lot more dangerous but also a lot more rewarding if she pulled it off.

Jennifer climbed through the hatch and dropped down onto the top of the staircase as quietly as she could. She looked over towards the boy and saw that he was still on the platform below, looking over the side of the banister. Slowly, she crept towards the top stair and began to inch down; if he continued to gaze over the side like that she could push him over with no problem.

However, when she was halfway down he turn towards her. Without thinking she threw whatever it was she was holding at him and watched as her Frisbee soared through the air between them and struck him in the face. As he was distracted with that she sprinted the remaining distance and tackled him. As they collided two loud bangs were heard and both hit the floor. Jennifer froze where she was on her back, she was sure that the gun had gone off between them but she did not feel anything. She looked over and was dismayed to see hat not only had she not knocked him over the side, but that he still had his gun. This was surely it, she had messed and he would kill her. She should have met up with the others.

Elliot stopped as he approached the second storey of the lighthouse to look over the railing. The spiral stairs gave the view straight down a strange look and the floor appeared to be a lot further down than it actually was. Getting a light sensation of vertigo, he pulled his head back and looked up the stairs, just in time to see something flying towards him before it struck.

He recoiled, out of surprise more than anything else, but recovered quickly when he heard the telltale sound of footsteps on metal. Seeing the girl running at him, he quickly lifted the gun and squeezed the trigger. However, she kept coming and he fired again just as she tackled him, knocking him into the banister before he fell to the floor.

He landed just to her side and above her, having managed to catch himself with one hand to stop himself from hitting the floor. He looked down into her face and recognised her immediately; her hair was more of a mess than he, or probably anyone, had ever seen it and her face was paler than usual but it was definitely her. The long blonde hair and green eyes were unusual enough to make her stand out in the first place, but there was no mistaking the face in front of him as anyone other than Jennifer Martin.

As he stared at her he felt something wet coating his hand and looking down he could see why. Apparently, those two shots had hit after all, as Jennifer had two small holes in the front of her shirt on her chest. Blood was beginning to pool out from under her to cover the metal platform they lay upon. As he sat back on his knees and brought his hand up before his own face, he saw the look of realisation on Jennifer's.

"No…"

"I'm sorry I…"

"This shouldn… hap…en to me"

"I know…"

"I was sup…posed to… win"

With this she made a grab for Elliot with one hand, her fingers almost closing around the collar around his neck. He jerked back in reaction and fell to the floor a few feet away, watching as she still tried to reach him without being able to follow after him. After a minute or so her efforts stopped and he heard her breathing become laboured before ceasing altogether.

He sat there for another few minutes and allowed the realisation of what he just committed sink in. He just killed an unarmed girl; true she may have been trying to throw him over the side but it was still just wrong. And why? Because he was scared? Because he panicked she should die? He stood up and picked up his pack, stepping around the body and the pool of blood as best he could. Maybe he would stay in the cottage after all.

I haven't mentioned this before, but I would like to thank Animefreak for beta reading the story up to this point.


	12. Ninth Hour 40 Students Remaining

Ninth Hour – 40 Students Remaining

Simon Reed, a.k.a. B14, flinched as another bullet flew past his head, colliding with a tree on his right so close to him that he felt the bark flying off the trunk hit him in the face. He chanced a quick look behind him and swerved to the left just as another shot was fired, this bullet ending up God knows where. He needed to do something quickly, his luck would only hold out so much longer.

A third shot rang out, this time hitting lower and kicking up a cloud of dirt just in front of him. He jumped at the impact and took another sharp turn, right this time. Another bang and again the bullet hit a tree in front of him, gouging a hole in the wood. He stopped in his tracks instinctively but immediately realised his mistake and didn't bother trying to run again. He heard the footsteps behind him, the ones that had been pursuing him for what seemed like hours. They were a bit lighter than his own, much closer than he would have liked and no longer running.

He turned to face his pursuer and was honestly surprised by who he saw. Standing before him and pointing an obscenely large handgun at him, a Desert Eagle by the look of it, was Gabrielle Rousseau, a.k.a. G7, the French foreign exchange student who had joined there class no more than three months prior to the trip. He didn't even know she was eligible for the trip, not being an official student, let alone that she was actually on the coach with them.

"Hey, don't do this. We can team up, we can work together, we can get out of this. We don't have to kill anyone," Simon pleaded with the girl before him with arms raised, trying to coax her into lowering the gun. His own weapon, a metal pot lid, hung useless in his hands. It might have made a good improvised shield against something like a knife, but stopping a bullet with it was asking a lot.

"You seem to be confused. Killing is the whole point. It's how you get off the island and earn your ticket home" Gabrielle remained unfazed however, the gun level as always at his chest.

"It can't be the only way, I refuse to believe that. They have to have missed something and I plan on finding out what and exploiting it. Help me. We can get out of this together, along with whomever else we find" Simon was raising his voice a little now, a little more urgency in his tone.

"There's no 'we' in this. I shouldn't even be here; I should be back home far away from any of you and this damn island. I just got caught up in something that doesn't include me" Gabrielle pulled back the hammer on her pistol with her thumb, preparing to fire.

"You don't have to do this, we can figure out a plan to get off the island. I can get you home!" Simon was shouting now, trying to convince the girl to not do what she was planning to do.

"I already have a plan; it ends with me being the last one standing and being sent home, and starts with me killing you" Gabrielle pulled the trigger, the powerful weapon kicking back in her hands as it launched a bullet at Simon which hit him square in the chest and slammed into him, knocking him over backwards. She stood there for a moment, waiting to see if one bullet was enough or if more were required. After several seconds of silence in the wake of the loud, explosive bang and stillness from the boy in front of her, she turned he back to his body and began to walk in the opposite direction. That brought the remaining number of students down to forty, she believed.

He waited until the sound of footsteps completely disappeared, and then a few minutes longer, before he decided to get back up. It would not do to live through something like this only to die because he got impatient, because Gabrielle saw him sit back up after she had shot him in the chest. Simon rubbed the area that had been hit before lifting his shirt up and seeing the bullet still stuck in the material of his bullet-proof vest. He plucked the piece of metal away from the fabric and threw it away. He was surprised when he opened his pack at the start of the game and found not one but two weapons, even if one was pretty much useless. Well, Barret had said that there would be some surprises when it came to weapons and I guess that was what he meant.

Simon pulled his pack up over his head and placed it on the ground in front of him, trying not to touch the bruise that was already forming on his chest. He expected the pain, he knew vests like his only stopped the bullet from going in, and didn't stop the fact that they still had a lot of force behind them. Still, it hurt like hell. He didn't know what they were thinking when they decided to give a weapon like that to one of the students; it was more of a cannon than a gun.

He opened up the pack and grabbed a bottle of water, glad that Gabrielle didn't have the urge to try and take his belongings off of his body after she had 'killed' him. It would have been difficult to keep up the dead act in that case. While useful the vest wasn't perfect; a shot to the body, at least from most guns, and he would be fine. A shot to the legs or arms not so much, and getting shot in the head was fatal no matter what kind of armour he had on. That's exactly what would have happened had Gabrielle had decided to check if he was really dead and found out otherwise; a shot to the head, bang, and then there's a killer walking around with a big gun and bullet-proof armour. He couldn't allow something that dangerous to happen.

Simon needed to find his friends, people he could trust, and fast. Then, then they could get started on figuring out a way out of here. It was just too bad that they had taken their belongings when they had brought them here, he would have loved to get his hands on his laptop right about now. Maybe then he could do something about these collars around there necks. After that getting off the island would be easy.

"So, how does it look?"

Gerald Smith, a.k.a. B10, looked out from under the hood of the truck that he had spent the past few hours fixing to see his new 'ally' standing a few feet away. He started at Isaac Holmes, a.k.a. B5, for a few seconds, his eyes flicking down to the shotgun that hung by a strap around his neck briefly before answering.

"The front left tire was flat, but I've already fixed that, and I siphoned gas from all the other vehicles around here so it's got a full tank as well. But really those were the least of the problems with this thing" Gerald got out from under the hood and hopped down to the ground before leaning back against the truck.

"You've got to remember that this thing hasn't been maintained or even driven at any point in the past few decades. It's a wreck. Every major part is either seized up by rust or just too damaged to work at all. Maybe if I can clean it up a bit, get rid of most of the rust, I can get it working, but it's only a matter of time before the whole things gives up and breaks. Hopefully, it'll hold up long enough for what we need"

Isaac nodded his head at this while looking thoughtful. "Keep working on it for now. It's not vital, so if you can't get it working we can just work around it. It would be nice to have an easy way to move things around quickly should we need to, though" Gerald nodded his agreement to this and turned back around to restart work on the engine, but apparently Isaac was not finished yet. "In the meantime, I've got a list of people who I think can be useful to us all worked out. Is there anyone you want me to add to it? Anyone you want to make sure makes it home with us?"

Gerald answered quickly, without even turning around. "No." Frankly he thought that bringing in anyone else was a bad idea. The more people there were the more chance one would betray them, or that they would be found out. He was still uncomfortable even working with Isaac on this.

"Okay then, I'll leave you to it" With that, Isaac turned around and Gerald heard his footsteps fade away as they moved in the direction of the garage. Gerald turned around to make sure he had really left and saw that he was nowhere in sight and that the door to the office had been closed.

With Isaac finally gone, Gerald quietly close the hood of the truck and walked around to the driver side door, hopping inside. His pack already sat in the passenger seat, ready for him, and he reached under the steering column to continue the hot-wire job that he had started earlier. He wasn't lying; not really, the engine truly was a mess. Every surface covered with grime and rust and who knew what else, but the whole thing was in remarkably good shape considering it had been standing outside in the elements for so long. He guessed they just built these things to last. Gerald sat up and looked over at the building again quickly; he needed to move fast if he was going to get it started and leave before Isaac noticed something.

It was not that Isaac's plan was bad one, or that Gerald didn't want to escape, it was just that he didn't think it would work. Isaac's plan was basically to get a bunch of smart people together and hope one of them gets an idea. It's not that it wouldn't work, but it left a lot to chance and relied heavily on the idea that these people could be trusted. Gerald wasn't willing to take that risk.

Just as he was about to start the engine he stopped. He'd though a lot about how he was going to do this, and had decided that this way was the best. Trying to talk to Isaac about it wouldn't end well; he'd just get a lecture on why he shouldn't leave. He had even briefly considered knocking out or even killing Isaac and taking the shotgun for himself. He was leaving to play the game after all and he could use a decent weapon. However, just because Gerald didn't believe in the plan didn't mean it wouldn't work. It deserved a chance, and if it did work, then it would save everyone. Gerald wouldn't have to kill everyone else to survive.

He sparked the last two wires together and the engine roared to life. He took one last look at the garage before pressing on the gas pedal and steering the truck towards the road.

_Sorry Isaac. But I've got to look after myself first._

It all came back down to the collars. One could try and get off the island, either by finding or building your own boat, or even hijacking a patrol boat, but you could only get so far before the collars blew up and took your neck with them. If you went the other way, tried to take over the mess hall and end it that manner. Well, the dangerzone around the building would stop anyone before they even got close. They were the main obstacle that stood in the way of their escape; Isaac knew this, but he couldn't think of a way around them. Surely there must be some way of removing them, they had to get the winner of the island some how. Unless there was no winner. No, no. He couldn't think like that. There was a way, a way of unlocking the collars without setting off the explosives. So in essence they were trying to find a way of disarming a bomb. Great.

In that case, their first priority should be to find someone who knew a thing or two about electronics, how they worked and more importantly how to take them apart. He started to scan through the list of students he knew to be on the island, as well as his own list of people who could be trusted. Isaac was looking for someone who could help them when he heard the sound of an engine starting outside. He grabbed his shotgun from the counter next to him and ran outside, just in time to see the truck start moving towards the road.

He realised almost immediately what this meant. Gerald was betraying him; he had fixed up the truck by himself and was heading off on his own. Isaac raised the shotgun in front of him and aimed it at the retreating form of the truck, the back tires more specifically. That would at least slow the truck down without permanently disabling it. However, after a second, he lowered the gun and let the truck disappear from sight, muttering under his breath to himself as he watched it vanish behind the trees.

"Damn it, Gerald. You could have talked to me. I would have let you leave if that's the way you felt"

Dropping the shotgun to let it hang around his waist again, Isaac released a sigh and turned to walk back to the garage. So far his idea of grouping everyone together wasn't off to a great start.

Inside one of the moderately sized suburban houses that made up the area of the island known as the residential district, a dull thumping sound echoed through its interior as a figure paced back and forth on the hard, wooden floor. It was something he had been doing since he had arrived there almost an hour ago.

"Will you stop pacing? It's giving me a headache"

"I can't, I'm restless. People are dying out there, we could be next, I don't see how you can remain so calm right now and expect me to do the same"

Charles Palmer, a.k.a. B17, paused in his pacing just long enough to answer this request from his friend Zack Stone, a.k.a. B11, before starting it up again. Zack himself stood at the window of the house they currently resided in, gazing out over the street from behind what remained of the tattered curtains that hid him from view as they flapped in the breeze coming through the broken glass. In his hands he held his given weapon, a sawn-off shotgun, at the ready. Just in case anybody tried to start a fight with the duo. Not that it was a likely occurrence; the street showed no signs of movement and the other houses on the street appeared deathly still, as if nothing living had entered in years. Although presumably the people who organised this had gone through them recently.

After a few seconds without a response from his friend, Charles stopped in his track again and turned to face him. He waved his arms involuntarily as he spoke, his own weapon, a one handed sickle, still in his hands. "People are already dead, Zack. Edward is already dead, our friend. Stabbed to death by who the fuck knows! How can you just sit there like nothings happening?"

This caught Zack's attention and he turned away from the window to face his friend. He stood in the centre of what was once the living room of this house. He guessed that it still was; only now it was devoid of any furniture or any other object. The last family to live here most likely took everything with them when they moved, leaving only the barren, dust covered room that they stood in now. "Because there's nothing we can do Charlie. Not right now anyway. Rushing in will only get us killed. For now we need to just stay put, keep a rational head and think things through. Which is what I've been doing while you were wearing a grove in the floorboards"

This seemed to calm Charlie down somewhat and he finally ceased his pacing, instead leaning against the door frame that lead from the living room to the dining room. "Your right, I'm sorry. I-I'm just scared Zack. We don't know what's going on out there. Who knows how many people have died since the last announcement?" There was a moment's pause and Zack didn't need to look at his friend to know that he was thinking about how to phrase the next question.

"Do you think she's still alive?"

Zack turned back towards the window to resume his watch other the world outside, pausing for a moment himself as he thought about their mutual friend who, along with the late Edward, made up the rest of their group. "Zoe can handle herself. She's tough. I'm sure she's still alive"

From behind him he heard an audible sign as Charlie relaxed. "You're probably right. We still need to find her as soon as possible though. I won't be able to stop blaming myself if she died before we could meet up with her like with Edward…"

"Yeah, me neither"


	13. Tenth Hour 40 Students Remaining

Tenth Hour – 40 Students Remaining

As William White, a.k.a. B16, peered through the trees towards the two figures sitting near the river, the sound of its flowing waters covering any noise he might have made, he felt a rush of excitement flood through him. This was the chance he had been waiting for, the chance to get revenge for all the torment he had to suffer through high school. Every act of verbal or physical abuse he had to endure would be repaid in full right now. So then why did this not feel right?

The figures belonged to the couple of Kevin Landers, a.k.a. B1, and Samantha Winters, a.k.a. G6. Kevin drew his eye first; he was an imposing figure standing at six feet tall and with an athletic build earned through many years of playing sports and working out. He wasn't as big as some of the other jocks in school, but compared to the relatively weedy looking William, it was more than enough. Samantha was much thinner than her boyfriend and shorter than him, but not William. However, she did still have lean and athletic figure; from what William could remember he thought she might have been on the track team.

The problem, he realised, was that neither of the people on the other side of the trees were responsible for what happened to him at the hands of his tormentors. He first looked towards Kevin, the sports jacket he wore marking him as one of the players on the schools football team; the group who had tortured him more often and more severely than any other. The problem was, Kevin wasn't one of them, wasn't a part of it. It was always Vince, or Adrian or, Hell, any of the team, who bullied him. But never Kevin. Did he really deserve to be punished for what the others did? And Samantha, what had she ever done to anyone? Nothing; if anything she had tried to help him a couple of times, not that it ever worked.

William shook his head to clear it of its traitorous thoughts. No, Kevin may not have been the one who bullied him, but he never tried to stop it either. He knew what his teammates were doing to him and he never stopped them. He was just as responsible for all he had to go through as they were. As for Samantha, he didn't want to hurt her, and hoped he would not have to. But if she got in the way she would have to die too. It wasn't something William wanted to have to do, and he hoped that it wouldn't come to that, but that was just the way the game was played.

He looked down and checked the device in his hands one more time. The GPS showed him the location of every remaining student on the island, or rather every remaining active collar. Over the past few hours he had been using it to trail the two by the river to this location, every now and then noticing as another signal blinked out of existence as another kill was made. At the moment it showed only three signals around their current location; there was no one else anywhere near them. That was good, it meant this wouldn't get interrupted; all he had to do was wait for his opening.

Taking a drink from her water bottle, Samantha stole another look at the boy sitting next to her out of the corner of her eye and saw that he was still looking forlornly at the ground. Kevin had seemed to lose hope at a steady pace ever since seeing what 'weapons' they had been granted by the people running this game and had yet to snap out of it. This could not be allowed to continue; they needed each other to survive here, they needed each other to be strong so that they could support each other, both physically and mentally. Seeing her boyfriend without his usual cheerful, optimistic demeanour was starting to have an effect on her own hopes of survival. She reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly and bringing his attention to her before giving him the most confident and comforting smile she could muster at the moment.

"Don't worry about the weapons, we'll figure something else out. It's not like we were planning on using them much anyway. We'll just have to be a bit more careful than we would have been" She reached into her pack and retrieved her weapon, a magic 8-ball, the kind that you would ask questions and then shake to get the answer. She held it in front of her to show Kevin. "We can't be the only people to get crappy weapons like this. I bet there are only a handful of good weapons on the entire island. We'll just have to try and avoid those wielding them, that's all"

Seeing Kevin cheer up slightly, and spurred on by the fact that her words were at least having an affect on him, she continued. "We can make it out of this. We'll just have to take things one step at a time, that's all" She gestured to the colourful plastic handle that was sticking out of the open top of Kevin's pack. "We can start by you taking that thing down to the stream and filling it up with water. Just because it's not a real gun doesn't mean it can't be useful"

Looking reinvigorated and acting much more like his old self, Kevin stood up and grabbed the plastic handle, pulling the object from the confines of his pack to reveal and brightly coloured, plastic super soaker. He held it in both hands like a rifle and looked down at Samantha.

"Are you going to be alright while I'm gone?"

"The streams, like, twenty feet away. I'll be fine. If I need help I'll call for you"

With this reassurance, he turned around and ran towards the stream, disappearing around the corner of a large bush that hid them from each others sight. Now that he was gone she finally felt able to drop the façade and let her real feeling show. She was scared, really scared. It was easier to believe that they'd make it through this the more she heard it, even if she was only saying it herself. But really, she didn't know if either of them would even make it past the first day, let alone all the way to the end; and even if they did, what then? Only one person could make it out of this alive. What would happen if it came down to just to them of them? Would Kevin play the hero as always and allow Samantha the win? Would she let him?

The river was wide at this point, but didn't look too deep; they could probably ford it here if they wanted to get to the other side later. Kevin examined his surroundings before doing anything else; looking downstream in both directions and peering between the trees on the other bank, yet saw nothing that would indicate that there was anyone else nearby. He took one more look behind him and saw Samantha still sitting there; he gave her a quick smile before turning back around and kneeling next the water. He opened the cap on the water gun and lowered it into the water, waiting as it began to fill up, already feeling a little better about his weapon.

William gripped the handle of his machete and pulled it out of his pack as he stood up straight. Now that Kevin had gone to the river and he was separated from Samantha, William had a chance to kill him without getting her involved.

He pushed apart the branches in front of him carefully and snuck past them with a minimum of rustling, moving towards her back and hoping to be able to knock her out before going after Kevin. Her eyes were currently locked onto Kevin, should anyone try to attack him, as William continued forward, moving at such a severely slow pace that his legs were trembling beneath him. He tightened his grip on the machete shaking in his hand, his eyes widening as a stick cracked beneath his shoe, the sound seeming to echo around the clearing. In front of him, Samantha turned around at the noise and screamed in terror as she saw William standing behind her with machete in hand.

All thoughts of letting her live disappeared as William surged forward, bringing the machete down upon her in the hopes of quieting her down before Kevin could hear her. Samantha reflexively brought her arms up to block the blow, the blade slicing through her skin easily. She fell back from the attack and used her legs to try and kick out at her assailant. Her strong legs managed to knock the skinny teen back and deflect a couple of blow until she felt the cutting edge of the machete sink into her leg as well. As William continued to lash out at Samantha, she kept screaming, hoping that Kevin or anyone else would help her.

"Shut up, Shut up, PLEASE, SHUT UP!" Terror was etched on Williams's face he continued to strike at Samantha with the bloodied Machete. His plan had quickly gone horribly wrong and now he was being forced to attack someone who had done nothing to him in an attempt to get at the person he really wanted to kill. He became increasingly panicked; the longer this went on the more chance there was that someone would intervene.

Almost on cue, William was struck in the face by a blast of water. He looked up to see Kevin standing there with the super soaker in his hands, pointed straight at him. Kevin shot again, hitting William harshly in the face and catching him by surprise, causing him to take a few steps backwards. Before William could recover, Kevin stepped forward and swung the plastic, but solid, object into Williams face, sending him reeling back again, further away from Samantha.

Kevin took his attention off of William for a second to check on his fallen girlfriend. "Are you okay?" She did not respond and instead only sat there, shaking. Kevin noticed the large gash on Samantha's arm, and another on her leg, both steadily dripping blood onto the ground. Not to mention the multitude of smaller cuts and scrapes William had inflicted.

He turned to face William again with a look of rage on his face, swinging the plastic super soaker at his head again and striking him in the forehead. William stumbled back, his balance disappearing as he fell back onto the ground, his arms and machete flailing as he tried to keep balance. He turned to the side to see Samantha sitting there looking at him in shock. Kevin swung again, this time knocking the machete out of William's hand to go flying away, before kneeling next to him and hitting him in the face a couple more times, now just beating the other kid with the plastic toy. William felt his nose start to give way and begin to throb under the assault and tasted the tang of iron on his tongue coming from his newly split open lip.

William lay there, dazed and barely conscious, as Kevin stood back up and walked out of his line of sight. For a second, William thought that he had been saved until he saw the form of the football player appear over him again, this time carrying William's machete in his hands. As Kevin raised his hands above his head and brought it down, William quickly lifted his arms to block, the blade sinking into his flesh painfully.

"No, no. I'm sorry. I'm sorry" William had been in this situation plenty of times before. Lying on the ground, pleading to be let go as a large jock held him down and did whatever they wanted to the much weaker teen. Years of pent up frustration and anger threatened to overflow as he was forced to endure yet more suffering at the hands of his tormentors. He caught a glimpse of Samantha throw his folded arms, still sitting there with blood dripping down her arms and legs. Was this the way she felt when he attacked her? Helpless, powerless, terrified? He wasn't lying when he said he was sorry, he was sorry he attacked her, sorry he put her throw what he himself had to contend with. That being said he still wanted more than anything right now to kill Kevin in the worst way possible, and then go after all the other jocks.

Kevin paused for a moment in his attack, seeing that William just stopped each hit with his arms. "I never had a problem with you before. BUT WHEN YOU TRY TO KILL…" Kevin punctuated each word with a kick at William's head, meeting his arms instead and pushing them away. He lifted the machete up again and brought them down on William head, the blade sinking through his skull with a sickening crack. Kevin pulled the blade free with some effort and threw the weapon down next to the body.

All was quiet in the clearing for a moment, neither Kevin nor Samantha saying anything in the wake of William's death. Until, in a shaky voice, Samantha spoke. She was still shaken after seeing the beating and then murder of someone who she had known for a long time, even if she didn't actually know him that well. The fact that it had been her boyfriend, in an act of rage she had never seen from him before, that had killed him only added to it. Forgetting her wounds for now, she turned to look at the only other remaining person in the clearing and broke the silence.

"K…Kev? Can you… can you help me up?"

Kevin jumped slightly upon hearing her. He turned to face her and his blank face softened as his eyes landed on her bloody form. He walked over and took her hands in his, pulling her up.

"Come on, let clean the… blood of you, before we do anything else"

The couple walked forward, Kevin remembering to grab one of their packs along the way. They followed the path Kevin had walked earlier to get to the river and then crouched down next to the water. Kevin dropped the pack to the ground and opened it up, looking for any sort of cloth that they could use. He eventually had to resort to taking one of the cloth bandages from the first aid kit and, after wetting it in the river, began to wipe the blood from Samantha's arms. After completely cleaning one arm, he threw the dirty bandage away and got another one from the kit. He wet it first before handing it over to Samantha.

"Here. I'll go and get the other packs" Kevin stood up and returned to where William still lay. He grabbed their other pack off the ground and was about to head back when a thought occurred to him. He walked over to William and dropped the pack next to him before reaching down and sliding his own pack out from under him.

Kevin opened it up and searched through it. As well as the usual supplies that they all had, Kevin also found an electronic device that he didn't recognise. Curious, but with other things on his mind, Kevin threw the device back into the pack and closed it up. He swung the strap of both packs over one shoulder and stood up. He grabbed the handle of the bloodied machete as well and turned to walk back to the river and rejoin Samantha.

What did she ever do to end up here? Didn't they know who she was? She was not like the others, she was better than them. She didn't deserve to be put through this indignity.

Penelope Waterford, a.k.a. G11, pulled her foot free from the muddy puddle that she had just stepped in, looking disdainfully at it. The murky liquid was shaken off her now ruined shoes as she stomped on the ground in frustration, walking around the puddle and marching angrily through the forest. Ever since she had left the mess hall at the start of the game, it had been one humiliation after another; the branches caught at and tore her expensive clothes, twigs, leaves and dirt got stuck in her styled platinum blonde hair, staining it a darker colour, and now this. What did she ever do to deserve this?

No matter, this whole ordeal would be over soon enough. They would be looking for them, they had to be, and soon the Marines, or the army, or whoever, would descend on the island to kill or capture the people who had done this, and save them all. Then the people responsible for this, that Barret person in particular, would get what they deserved. Her father would make sure of that. Penelope's father was one of the most well known and respected, if not necessarily the most successful, businessmen in the state, with far-reaching, powerful and influential connections in industry and, more importantly, government. And if there was one thing Penelope knew, it was that her father would be using those connections right now to save his precious daughter. And everyone else too, of course.

As she continued walking with a satisfied smirk at the thought of what sort of punishments the people who did this to her would receive, Penelope missed the rather large tree trunk that stuck up out of the ground in front of her, not noticing it until it caught her foot and sent her sprawling to the ground. Letting out a frustrated cry, she pushed herself off the ground and too her feet, angrily wiping the dirt away. As she did this, she caught some slight movement out of the corner of her eye and quickly turned to face whoever it was, relaxing slightly as she recognised the face.

"You could have helped me up instead of just standing there you know"

Instead of answering, Madeline Scott, a.k.a. G13, simply pushed herself off of the tree she was leaning against and walked towards Penelope. The weapon the girl held in her hand caught Penelope's attention, it's long handle extending out of her grip and ending in a metal axe head, one side taking the shape of a triangular blade and the other a short hammer's head. Penelope shifted her gaze upwards as Madeline got closer; up close the smile on her face looked a little off somehow, but Penelope just shook this feeling off. She couldn't blame the girl if she found it hard to smile sincerely in this situation.

"Since when have you ever willingly excepted help from me? If I'd tried you'd just complain that you had everything under control and didn't need it"

Not willing to admit that the other girl was right, Penelope instead decided to change the subject and began searching for another topic. Her eyes alighted on the weapon she had noticed early and gestured to it with one hand. "Nice weapon you got. Was a normal axe not good enough?"

Ignoring the snide comment, Madeline instead just raised the axe up for Penelope to get a closer look. Now that it was closer Penelope could see some designs had been carved into the blade and a small charm, just a couple beads and a feather, hung from the metal axe head at the top of the handle.

"Oh this? The note I got in my bag called it a 'Tomahawk'. Looks just like a fancy axe to me, but as long as it works I'm not going to complain about the way it looks. How about you, what did you get?"

The question caught her off guard. Her weapon was nowhere near as good as Madeline's and part of her didn't want to show her what it was. Yet a more reasonable – and therefore smaller – part of her knew she would have to. With a dejected sigh, Penelope reached into her pack and pulled out what looked like nothing more than an ornately carved wooden pipe. "All I got was this and a small box full of darts that say 'tranquiliser' on it. I think it's one of those blowpipe things, though how that's going to be useful I have no idea"

Madeline responded with a slight shrug as she looked down at the weapon in Penelope's extended hand. She apparently didn't have much idea either. "You could put people to sleep I suppose, though how that's useful in a game where the goal is to kill people I don't know. Speaking of which, just what are your plans for the game anyway?"

Upon hearing Madeline's question, Penelope perked up. She quickly stowed her useless weapon away from sight back in her pack before answering. "Isn't it obvious? People are going to be looking for us, our father's are going to be looking for us. It will only be a matter of time before they find us here. All we have to do is survive until then" Any satisfaction that Penelope might have felt after giving her answer was soon taken away, however, upon hearing Madeline's response.

"Oh, Penelope, you actually think your father's going to rescue you? That's so sad I almost feel bad for what I'm about to do to you. The thing is your father probably doesn't even know that you're missing. No one does"

The feeling of shock that Penelope felt upon hearing this was apparently evident on her face as well, as Madeline soon dove into an explanation. "We went on a school trip right? And we basically just didn't come back. Any number of things could have happened to us, all of which are more likely than what 'actually' happened. It wouldn't be hard to cover up our kidnapping by just saying we has a crash or something. No survivors of course. No, I don't think you father or anyone else is going to be saving us."

Madeline had been walking forwards all the while she was talking, pursuing Penelope who was at the same time walking backwards, hoping to get away from the harsh truths that the other girl was giving her. She was right, of course, how could anyone come to save them when they didn't even know what had happened to them? By the time anyone figured out that they had even been kidnapped the game would probably already be over. And all this meant of course that… "You know what that means don't you Penelope?" They would have to play the game.

Without warning Madeline rushed forward, swinging the axe in her hand in a low arc towards Penelope. The rounded, though no less dangerous, hammer side of the Tomahawk's head connected with the side of Penelope's knee with bone shattering force. Penelope let out a shriek of pain and collapsed to the floor, all feeling in that knee and anything below it replaced by a numbness that was only just noticeable through the searing pain that came with it. Looking down see could see that the leg was not outwardly hurt, meaning there was no blood, but the joint was bent into a position that was anything but natural.

Penelope was in shock, frozen in place as her 'friend' stood above her, staring down at her with that same off smile as before, only now it was accompanied by a look that made Penelope think that the other girl was enjoying this a little too much. Finally regaining control of her own body, Penelope began dragging herself backwards with her arms, wincing with every movement as her injured leg was dragged along the ground with her. "Wha… what are you doing? We're friends. We're friends; we have been ever since our fathers introduced us to each other" Madeline's father was another businessman in the city where they both lived. Some years beforehand the two men had met regularly to discuss business and had always taken their daughters along with them so that they could socialise. Even after this practise stopped, the two girls found themselves at the same school together and had continued to be friends regardless. Or at least that's what Penelope had thought. "We're friends"

Madeline apparently thought differently. "Do you have any idea how much that whiney fucking voice of yours grates? I've always hated you. Ever since the first day out fathers met and made us become friends, I've hated you" The smile was gone now, replaced with a look of anger and Madeline continued to pace after Penelope, even as she slowly tried to crawl away. "You're stuck up, self centred, selfish, bossy. But I couldn't do anything about it. You had your father wrapped around your little finger, upsetting you would embarrass my father, and put any deals between them at risk when you ran crying to daddy about how I didn't like you, like the spoiled brat that you are"

Madeline breathed heavily after her outburst, her voice raised in volume with every syllable as years of pent up frustration poured out. She looked thoughtful for a second as she let herself calm down, a more rational part of her coming forward. "Admittedly I should probably be taking this out on my father rather than on you. But, then again, he's no here so…"

Madeline's second attack came just as suddenly as the first, her axe flashing downwards in an arc aimed directly at Penelope's skull. The metal blade struck with enough force behind it to easily cut and smash its way through her skull before stopping just above her left eye. Penelope's now limp body feel backwards and landed with a slight thump on the floor. Soon after Madeline bent down and, taking a solid grip on the handle of the axe and bracing with one foot on Penelope's shoulder, ripped the blade free of her skull.

Shaking the axe in her hand to get rid of the blood, Madeline reached down and pulled the pack off of Penelope's body before setting it down on the ground along with hers. She opened up both packs and began emptying the supplies from one into the other, even taking the map and compass, just in case she needed a spare. She paused momentarily once she had Penelope's weapon in hand. What use could such a weapon be, especially since she didn't really know how to use it? With a shrug she threw both the wooden pipe and the case of darts into her pack as well. You never knew when something like that would be useful. She hefted the now much heavier pack onto her shoulder with some effort before looking back at the body of her newly departed 'friend'.

As she looked over the body, from the mangled knee all the way up to that horrible gash in her forehead, she was surprised at what she felt. Even though she hated this person, even though she had wanted to get rid of them for the longest time now, she couldn't help but feel a sense of… relief. Ever since the game had started, Madeline had known that this would be her only chance to finally take out all of her frustration; both at Penelope, at her father, and, hell, just at her life in general. But she had been worried that she might not have what it takes to go through with it. After all, thinking about killing someone and actually doing it are two completely separate things.

The first kill was always supposed to be the hardest, both to do and to get over, but she had done it easily and it had even been a little fun. If all of her kills in the game were this easy, she'd have this game in the bag and no body would be able to stop her.


	14. Eleventh Hour 38 Students Remaining

Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait between chapters. I had some computer problems that prevented me from getting onto fanfiction for a while. The chapter after this one is ready to go already and the one after that is almost done. Both of them shold be up no more than a few days after this one, after that the update schedule should return to what is what before.

Eleventh Hour – 38 Students Remaining

"So, what do you think?"

"I don't know. I mean, it looks pretty deserted, but none of these buildings have been used in years, decades even. How do we know that nobody's waiting for us inside?"

Tim Scotts, a.k.a. B12, looked uncertainly at the large building that stood at the centre of the wide clearing they had just stepped into. The barracks was supposed to be their fortress, a place they could wait out the game in relative safety. But now that he saw it he wasn't sure how safe it actually was, anything could be waiting for them in there. From where he sat, he could see the tall, barred windows that lined the outer walls of the barracks, although the murky glass not allowing him to see what was inside. He could also see the heavy, rusted metal double doors at the front of the building, one half of which stood slightly open, just wide enough for a person to slip through which some effort.

"I guess we don't. But look, the front door is still open. You'd think if anybody was here they would have closed it, right? That means the place is most likely still empty"

Daniel Lancaster, a.k.a. B9, for his part, did not look convinced. He still eyed the building in front of him with a sense of apprehension, as if something menacing was waiting for them inside the walls of the barracks. "Maybe you're right, but I still don't feel comfortable about this"

The two of them left the relative safety of their hiding place to walk across the open ground between them and the front doors of the barracks, both keeping wary eyes on the gap between the doors. As they reached the building, Tim placed a hand on Daniel's shoulder to stop him as he peered into the darkness on the other side of the double doors.

"Ok, you stay out here while I go in and check this place out, just in case I'm wrong about this and there is someone in there. There's no sense in putting both of us at risk until we know for sure, right?"

Before Daniel could say anything to object to this, Tim had already stepped forward and begun squeezing himself through the double doors to the cool darkness on the other side, leaving the other teenager to stand outside by himself.

Inside the barracks it was much darker than Tim would have thought considering it was almost noon. The grime-covered windows did not allow in much light, meaning most of the room was bathed in a sort of half-light while other parts where shrouded in darkness. He could not see anybody inside from his initial sweep of the room, but due to how little of the room he could actually see, there could be anything hiding in there and he wouldn't see it until it was too late.

Steeling his nerves, Tim took a few more steps, wandering deeper into the room. The only contents of the long room seemed to be a number of bunks that he passed along the way; some were intact, some had been broken or fell apart over time, one even looked like it had been shredded by a chainsaw or something. Directing his eyes forward, he could see the doors that would lead him to the smaller, private rooms at the back of the barracks. The main room seemed to be empty, so once he checked those he knew it would be safe enough for them to stay here.

He was halfway across the room when he heard it, the soft sound of movement coming from the shadows to his left that made him stop in his tracks. He had started reaching for the gun currently in his pocket on his right side but before he could even try and think about what might have caused the noise, he heard the sound of an engine roaring to life from the same cluster of shadows.

On instinctive reaction more than any conscious action, Tim dove out of the way just as the whirring blade of a chainsaw swept through the space where he was only a second before. He hit the ground and quickly rolled to his feet, pulling the revolver out of his pocket the second he had come to a halt a few feet away from his attacker.

Looking up, he realised to his dismay that his roll had placed himself nearer to the far end of the room away from the front door, with his assailant between his escape and himself. Of course, looking in that direction also brought his aggressor into view. Tim moved his view upwards, forcing himself to not focus on the chainsaw in his hands and instead meet the person's eyes, although once he saw their expression he wished he hadn't.

The grin spread across that face gave him goose bumps. While they were smiling, the sentiment was not matched by the look in their eyes, which instead seemed to contain no emotion at all; and the way the grin slightly bared his teeth gave him an almost feral appearance.

The figure surged forward suddenly, quickly closing the distance between the two of them. Tim stumbled back from his crouched position and started scooting backwards, fumbling to get his revolver back into his hands and bring it to bear. He fired as soon as he was able to, aiming low to try and hit the person in the leg. Even when threatened like this, he still didn't really want to hurt anybody; that was a line he could not cross, no matter the circumstances. Sadly, his haste along with the fact both he and his target were moving meant the bullet went wide, even at these close ranges, just barely managing to graze his attacker's thigh. They stumbled from the sudden pain but kept on coming, swinging the chainsaw once they were close enough, bringing the whirring chain down on Tim's still outstretched arm.

Unfortunately for Tim his aim was not the only thing that sucked, but his reaction time as well. Before he could even process that his shot had not had the intended effect, he felt his forearm being ripped apart as the chainsaw chewed through it, each tooth of the blade adding further pain to the agony he already felt. A scream erupted from Tim's mouth as blood began to spray from the wound, but the assailant didn't let up on the chainsaw until it hit bone, shattering the fragile object so that the rest of his forearm hung freely with nothing holding it in place other than what flesh had not been cut through.

The screams died down to silence as Tim fell into a state of shock after what had just happened to him. His attacker pulled the chainsaw away and knelt down in front of Tim, bringing his face down to the same level as his and allowing him to get a clear look at him, one that wasn't obscured by darkness, for the first time. Tim looked back at his assailant through cloudy eyes, finally managing to identify him as B19, a.k.a. Jacob Vayle, although the significance of this didn't really register with him at the time as he was still trying to figure out where exactly he was and why he couldn't feel his right arm.

Jacob raised the chainsaw up in front of him again and lowered it so that the blade rested on Tim's shoulder, just in the crook of his neck. He pressed down firmly with one hand while another held it in place, the engine chugging quietly as the teeth on the blade were pushed into Tim's skin. His face winced momentarily but the dazed boy showed no signs of reacting other than that.

"Seems a shame to kill you when you're like this, when you probably don't even realise what's about to happen to you. It makes me almost not want to do it" Jacob paused for a second to let his feral, tooth bearing grin spread across his face again. "Almost"

Jacob revved the motor of the chainsaw once more and began pushing down harder and putting more force behind the blade as it began to chew through Tim's shoulder and down through his chest. Blood was thrown in all directions, covering Jacob, covering the chainsaw, even covering most of the floor around them and even the wall behind Tim. The motor of the weapon started to whine slightly from the strain it was under so Jacob stopped and pulled the gore soaked blade from Tim's torso, the boys' body falling backwards as there was no life left in him to support it anymore.

The grin never left Jacob's face as he took a step back to admire his handiwork before reaching down and prying the revolver from Tim's nearly severed hand. He wiped the metal surface of the gun clean of as much blood as he could using Tim's jeans before placing it in his pocket. He turned back to face where he had originally sprang from when Tim entered and reached into the darkness to retrieve his pack before carrying it over to Tim. Tim's own pack had been another casualty of Jacob's attack and the pack itself as well as most of the contents had been destroyed, but he took what he could salvage and moved it over to his own pack before hefting the slightly heavier pack onto his shoulder.

Sparing one last look at the gory scene that he had left in his wake Jacob walked towards the door at the front of the barracks and squeezed through the barely open double doors before closing them behind him. Sealing in his first victim for the next person to stumble along and find.

Tim was dead. Daniel knew this ever since the roaring and screaming coming from inside the barracks reached his ears and began terrifying him with the nightmarish images they brought to mind. There was no reason to remain near the barracks any longer. In fact reason was telling him to get the Hell out of there, but he still couldn't quite bring himself to leave. Sure, he had moved away from the doors and back into the trees where he and Tim had watched the barracks from before, but he needed to stay long enough to see who it was that had killed Tim. If only for the sake of warning anyone else he found about them.

A few minutes after the sounds inside the barracks had died down Daniel saw somebody leave through the double doors who looked like they just stepped out of a Slasher movie. The chainsaw that hung from one hand literary dripped gore onto the ground and his torso and face were coloured completely red with blood. The sight alone was bad enough but as Daniel realised, if this person had killed Tim then they most likely had his gun as well. This was enough to cause Daniel to lose his nerve.

Sadly, he had not gotten a close enough look at the person's face to identify them, but the fact they were covered in blood would probably tip people off to the fact they were a killer. He just hoped that would be enough to save them.

He stood up slowly, trying not to bump into anything that would cause noise and draw attention to himself, and began walking backwards further into the trees. After he got a certain distance away and was sure the killer had not noticed him, he turned around and began running. He wasn't exactly sure where to, but anywhere had to be better than wherever that blood-soaked nightmare was.

The door to the armoury creaked open with only the slightest of pushes, revealing the darkened room on the other side, the only source of light being the long since broken fluorescent blubs overhead. Racks of the variety that would normally hold all of the weapons usually found on a military base lined the walls and ran down the centre of the large room. They were empty of course, all possible weapons having been removed by those that brought them here, to the disappointment but not the surprise of the girl who just now stepped into the room.

Elizabeth Shaw, a.k.a. G22, walked slowly and cautiously into the building, eyes darting to every corner of the room and searching out any potential threats. Her foot nudged one of the few shell casings that still littered the floor, sending it rolling noisily and causing the girl to jump back a few feet out of surprise at the sudden sound.

Regaining control of her breathing, Elizabeth chastised herself for being scared so easily. That sort of behaviour would not help her if she actually were attacked; she needed to be alert, not jumpy.

She walked all the way around the room once, but found nothing. Once satisfied that it really was empty of anything useful she headed for the door at the back of the room and moved into the next part of the building. Upon entering Elizabeth found herself at one end of an even longer room than the last one, with three booths that gave a view of the opposite end of the room where a number of targets were set up. A quick search of the firing range yielded no better results than the armoury; plenty of shell casings, but nothing useful.

She walked over to the middle booth and stood in the position the shooter would normally take, peering down range at the target. Whoever it was who had been here last had missed quite a lot. She was about to turn to leave when she heard a low creaking just creep into her ears, barely audible in the silence of the building. It only took her a moment to identify it as the sound of the front door opening, but any hopes she might have had that it was just pushed open by the wind were soon dashed when it was closely followed by a soft voice calling out.

"Hello?"

Walking as quietly as possible over to the doorway that separated the two rooms, Elizabeth peered around the frame at the new arrival. Silhouetted in the open doorway stood a tiny figure, several inches shorter than Elizabeth at least, though the weapon they carried was more than enough to make up for their unthreatening appearance. In their arms they carried a rifle that was half as long as they were tall; looking even larger than it truly was in the person's small hands.

Elizabeth's eyes widened as she spotted the gun, withdrawing her head quickly. She reached down into her pack to retrieve her own weapon just in case, holding the small, canister shaped device at the ready. She looked back into the room again and saw the person was much closer than before. Elizabeth could now see her clearly enough to identify her as a small, thin girl with a short-cut Paige-boy haircut and features that showed she was of Asian descent. Wasn't there a girl in one of her classes like that? What was her name again?

"Hello? Is anybody in here?"

It didn't matter, Elizabeth couldn't spend time worrying about remembering her name and allow her to trap her in the back room like this; she needed to act. She stepped out through the doorway and into the room, quickly locking eyes with the other girl. She raised her right hand with the canister in it and raised her other hand to place a finger through the pin of the grenade, holding it up threateningly.

"St… stop right there!" Despite trying to sound confident and intimidating, Elizabeth couldn't stop the nervousness she felt from coming across in her voice as well. "Try anything and I'll pull the pin"

The other girl looked startled by Elizabeth's sudden appearance but, although she took a few cautionary steps backwards, did not look too frightened by her bluff. Elizabeth herself was growing more frightened with each second that passed. She really didn't want to have to follow through on her threat, even if she knew that it might be a choice between life and death, she didn't want to have to hurt this girl.

"Ok, ok, calm down. I'm not going to do anything to you. I don't want to hurt anyone" The shorter girl lowered the rifle slowly to point it more towards the ground. "My name's Julia, I don't expect you to recognise me, not many people in school knew me. You're Elizabeth though, right?"

Elizabeth was taken slightly off guard by this sudden change in the situation, especially this girl she barely recognised knowing who she was. "Yeah… yeah that's me"

"Um… could you put the grenade down now please?"

Elizabeth realised she was still holding the grenade at the ready, looking at the other girl sheepishly for a second and apologising. "Sorry. The manual I got said it was just a stun grenade, so I don't think it would hurt you if I had used it anyway" She let got of the pin with one hand before dropping the Flashbang back into her pack.

The two girls stood silent for a few moments after this, neither knowing what else to say in this situation to fill the silence. It was surprisingly difficult to have a normal interaction with someone you didn't know in this sort of situation, especially when one of you held a gun. Releasing a deep breath, Elizabeth fell back and leaned heavily on the doorframe behind her, seeming to wilt slightly.

"I don't think I can handle this, I'm not good at dealing with this sort of thing. How do you deal with the fact that anybody you meet might try to kill you?"

Julia Watashi, a.k.a. G10, stepped nearer to the taller girl, edging forward until she was close enough to be able to reach out and put a reassuring hand on the girls arm. This seemed to snap Elizabeth out of her lamentations as she jumped and looked over at the smaller girl. "I'm not going to take part in this game, I'm not. I get lightheaded just at the thought of blood, but I don't know what else to do. Do you want to maybe team up? Together we might be able to find a way out of this"

Julia looked down thoughtfully and chewed her bottom lip for a second, thinking back to her run in with Steven early in the game, and what she had seen him do. "Normally I'd agree with you; I don't want to hurt anyone either, but I've already seen what some of the people in this game are capable of, what they can do to each other. If it means protecting myself from the same fate I will use this rifle if I have to. And if I see that guy from earlier again, I'll shoot him before he has a chance to kill me too" Julia has a stern look on her face as she said this, which look strange on the small girl, but it quickly passed and a more natural expression replaced it. "But yes, I'd like to team up with you, Elizabeth"

Elizabeth looked concerned for a moment. She wasn't sure she liked the way Julia was talking just know, but the way she said 'kill me _too_' made her think she had seen more of this game than she had and let it slide. "Ok then, and you can just call me Liz"


	15. Twelfth Hour 37 Students Remaining

Twelfth Hour – 37 Students Remaining

The operation of something like the Battle Royale required a special kind of person. They needed to be technically skilled; the running of the many computer systems that were involved could not be done by just anyone. They needed to be able to work under pressure; namely the pressure of being surrounded by armed soldiers who might be ordered to kill you if you mess up or do something to otherwise annoy the boss. But most of all they needed to be able to handle watching and being a part of an event that resulted in the deaths of forty plus teenagers; a normal person would snap under the reality of what they were doing and could threaten to ruin everything they had worked for. That was why the control room was constantly monitored by a collection of armed soldiers, just as a precaution. Luckily, the people they had managed to find were anything but normal.

"Ok, everybody, listen up. We are now entering the twelfth hour of the game and you all know what that means. The Battle Royale Betting Pool is now official open. You can place your bets on your favoured students at any point during the next two and a half days, if the game takes that long, but the sooner you place your bets the more your winnings will be if it pays off"

Behind the speaker at the front of the control room, in plain view of everyone, sat a large, white board on which was drawn a large grid. The grid contained the names of every student still alive on the island as of the latest reports alongside their odds of winning the game as determined based on weapon, kill count, injury, and a willingness to play the game; of course, most people would make their choice based on what they themselves had seen on the monitors around the room. There were two additional squares on the grid devoted to the other possible ends to the game; "No Winner", in which the game ended with the detonation of all the remaining collars when more than one person was left after three days, had quite good odds of happening, while "Escape", in which the remaining students all managed to leave the island by unexpected means, had an unlikely million-to-one odds.

The betting pool had been one of the technician's ideas, just something to make everything more interesting and give people something to do when they were not working. Barret was normally the kind of person who either ignored a subordinate's idea or took credit for it, but honestly this idea had amused him enough that he had both authorised it and let the other guy organise the whole thing as a reward.

With the announcement finished several technicians and a few soldiers stepped forwards from their positions around the room to place their bets, most of them going for the favourites: those with good weapons or those who had killed already. However, a few went for more unlikely choices based on details found in the students' psyche evaluations. Yet most of the control rooms' occupants stayed away, opting to wait and see how the game played out for a little longer to increase their chances.

On one side of the room, two soldiers were involved in a heated discussion that was increasing in volume the longer it went on, allowing certain parts of it to float over to the ears of other people in the room.

"… I'm telling you it's a stupid bet, that kid will never make it all the way to the end; they don't have what it takes!"

"And your guy does? He's a psychopath; he's more likely to off himself once this is all over as he is to walk away, and that's if he wins"

"Look, we're not going to settle this, let's just ask someone else. Ok?" With this, one of the soldiers began looking around the room, searching for someone to settle this argument in his favour. His eyes locked on one of the technicians at a nearby work station, whom he then approached. "Hey, you. You technicians are the ones who actually see what happens on the island, you should have a better idea than most; who do you think is going to win?"

The technician seemed startled at first by the appearance of two armed soldiers at his work station and looked as if he was trying to figure out what he might have done wrong. Once he heard what they had to say, though, he recovered amicably and turned his mind back to the game instead.

"Well…it's kind of too soon to tell, there are still a lot of unknowns who have yet to show us what they are capable of. But, based on what I have seen so far I'd have to go with… Steven"

"Steven? The actor kid, the one that got the first kill at the start of the game?"

"Yeah, him, he's a pretty good liar and he's tricked two people so far- killed one of them. I just think the ability to gain someone's trust in this game is a useful skill, no matter what your intentions"

"What happens when someone sees through his act?" Another technician decided to roll his chair over and join in the conversation. "He seems arrogant, like he expects his lies to always be bought, no questions asked. Either he messes up and gets killed or some paranoid wacko decides to shoot him just in case. it almost happened already when he met that other guy at the plane. I'm not saying he won't win, but I wouldn't put money on it"

"That's a fair point. Really, at this point, anybody could still win. Nobody has any serious injuries slowing them down, nobody has a huge advantage in weaponry, and there are very few groups which could threaten to control the game. It'll probably come down to whoever's the most willing to fight and see the game through to the end"

"I don't think they'll be any shortage of people like that. I've taken a look at the psyche reports we managed to collect for these kids, and a number of them are really screwed up in one way or another. It's kind of weird actually, you wouldn't expect so many…"

"Come to think of it, where did we even manage to get this information anyway? Isn't this kind of thing usually confidential or something?"

"Friends, relatives, school councillors" Everyone looked over to see Barret sitting unnoticed with his feet up on a desk towards the back of the room. "You'd be surprised how much people are willing to tell you if you have an official looking badge, a convincing story or just a good old fashioned wad of bills"

The sudden presence of their boss unnerved them; for some reason they all felt as if they had just been doing something wrong. "Well, sir, who do you think will win?"

Barret considered this for a second before answering. "I don't really care, as long as they don't go over the time limit and we have a winner this game will be a success. Although, I guess if they all kill each other it's fine as well; better even, because then we don't have to go through the trouble of sending them home, or killing them, or whatever it was we were going to do with them", Looking as if something just occurred to him, Barret checked his watch and with a sigh of effort he pulled his feet from the desk and stood up. "Time for the next announcement. If you'll excuse me I have to tell these brats which of their friends are now dead"

The relative silence of the island, disrupted only by the occasional piece of wildlife or burst of gunfire, was suddenly and painfully broken when a squeal of feedback heralded the start of the next announcement. This sound was soon followed by Barret's voice as he began with an obnoxious clearing of his throat.

"Good afternoon, children. How have you been enjoying your first day on the island so far, hmm? Now, I know that most of you have yet to really experience the Battle Royale in its full glory and a lot of you are probably still deluding yourself into thinking this is all just a big joke because of that; '_there's no way my classmates will kill each other, there's no way these announcements are real'_. But believe me when I tell you that people _are_ dying. People _are_ killing. Hell, if you don't believe me just head on over to the Barrack's, maybe seeing one or little friend's blood spread across the walls will convince you? Be careful though, wouldn't want you to slip on all the blood and hurt yourself. But I'll get to that it a bit; first off we have a few more deaths to announce…"

Barret reached across the desk to pick up the sheet of paper that contained the list of all those who had died in the game so far, with the deaths of the last six hours highlighted in a different colour to the rest. If he had to be honest he would say that the list was still far too short, but it was growing steadily and he had to give the student's time to adjust to the situation before the deaths really started to pick up.

"First up we have everybody's favourite queen bee, G1: Jennifer Martin, whose corpse is currently stinking up the lighthouse at the north-east corner of the island. If somebody could go over there and dump the girl's body in the ocean for us, we'd appreciate it"

A slight pause, just enough to let that last name sink in; currently, the largest group on the island was mainly composed of Jennifer's little gang of friends, maybe her death would cause a few rifts to appear in their relationships. It was a shame she had died so early, her profile promised such good things from her that she just didn't deliver on. Oh well, luck of the draw left her with a useless weapon and from there it was only to be expected that she would get herself killed. Still, it was a shame.

"Next to die was B16: William White. Well, I guess that's what happens when you get caught with another guy's girlfriend. After that we had G11: Penelope Waterford, who died of a splitting headache. Sorry, sorry, couldn't resist. She got her head cracked open like a ripe melon"

Another slight pause, this time because he felt that the next death deserved a little bit of a build up. It was, after all, the first sign he'd had that at least some of the students were capable of the kind of depravity he wanted to see from them.

"Last, but certainly not least, we have B12: Tim Scotts. Well, I don't really know what to say about this one, other than to congratulate the person responsible for it. You know who you are"

"Well, that's all for now. Four kills in the last six hours, plus a couple of unsuccessful attempts. Not bad, not that good either, but an improvement certainly. Keep it up people; don't start slacking off yet, there are still plenty of people left and some of you need to thin the herd a little if you want to make the deadline. But you don't need me to remind you of that, now do you?"

The loudspeaker that had been installed at the top of the lighthouse died out as the latest announcement ended, leaving the lone figure there to hear it alone with his thoughts once more.

Elliot Starlin, a.k.a. B2, leaned forward over the edge of the balcony, his elbows resting against the railing for support. Four more people had died in the last six hours alone, a number that he himself had contributed to. He'd winced as he had heard how Barret had spoken about Jennifer's death, a reminder of his confrontation with her earlier. After it had happened, Elliot had simply tried to ignore it, leave this place and stay in the cottage at the bottom of the hill instead. Yet he found he could not, it troubled him too much. He had come back here a while later and moved her body down from where it lay to the ground floor of the lighthouse, unsure of what else to do with. He ended up simply covering it over with a sheet in some semblance of respect and couldn't think what to do after that. It bothered him that Barret could speak about the dead so disrespectfully, though it did not surprise him. Especially someone whose death he was responsible for, even if it was an accident.

Was it an accident? She had been running at him, they collided and the gun had gone off, but before that he had been aiming the gun at her anyway. Did he pull the trigger by accident or…

Better not to think about that. Elliot closed his eyes and exhaled before clearing his thoughts of what had happened. She was dead, how or why wouldn't change that. He looked out over the balcony once more at the expanse of water stretching out in front of him. The sound of the waves crashing into the cliffs below him filled his ears. It reminded him of back home so much that if he closed his eyes and just listened he could almost pretend that he was back there again.

Kinnsington wasn't exactly close to the ocean, maybe an hour's drive away give or take, but Elliot had spent enough time going between the two that he couldn't think of one without thinking about the other. He was an avid surfer, he would be the first to admit that he wasn't particularly good at it, but he enjoyed it all the same. He would go down there on the weekends or on weeknights, sometimes with his friends or sometimes by himself; Hell, sometimes he even skipped school to go there. Now, he would probably never get to do that again. He might not even get to see his friends again before this game's over; Chael and Trina, at least he hadn't heard their names on the announcements but he still had no idea where they were.

Right now though he needed to concentrate on the present, namely where to go next. With the latest announcement there were sure to be a few people who would want to check out the lighthouse and that meant Elliot needed to leave before they got here. With one last look at the view, Elliot grabbed his pack from the balcony and walked back down into the lighthouse interior. He quickly descended the stairs, making sure to step around the patch of mostly dried blood on the second landing, and exited through the front door.

There was a lot of open ground between the lighthouse and the nearest piece of cover, so he would have seen any potential attackers long before they reached him, but even so he couldn't help but worry that there might already be someone waiting for him when he left. He still held the Colt pistol in his hand just in case, and his pack was full of both his and Jennifer's supplies as he began walking down the path towards the cottage.

He had decided to head along the northern edge of the island this time around, before turning south just before he reached the docks further along the coast. There was no beach on this side, only a cliff with a relatively short drop into the water below; not that falling off was not still a worrying prospect. The path Elliot used ran along the coast between the cliff and the trees, which grew right up to the edge with only a few feet to spare.

Getting the unnerving feeling he was being watched, Elliot turned to face the wooded area to his side, holding his colt out in front of him where it could be easily seen by any potential attackers. The trees to the side thinned considerably the closer you got to the edge of the island compared to what they were like further inland, but there was still more than enough cover to hide someone. The faint sound of rustling coming from within the foliage convinced Elliot his feeling was right.

"Hey, is someone in there? I'm gonna be really pissed if you make me go in after you so just come out and save yourself some trouble"

There were a few seconds of silence, in which Elliot wondered if he had just been imagining things, until it was broken by some muttered cursing followed by more rustling. "Alright, I'm coming out. Just don't shoot ok?"

With some difficulty a figure limped into view. The first thing Elliot noticed was the large gash on their leg, which had been hastily and messily bandaged. The second was the combat knife that they held in one hand; there were still some blood stains on the edge but it didn't look like it had seen much use. The third was the person's face, upon which Elliot was able to identify them as Adrian Starr, a.k.a. B21.

"How about you just lower the gun and we both go out separate ways, because something tells me we're both already having really shitty days without us making it worse for each other"

Elliot considered this. It didn't look like Adrian was a threat, in fact it looked like he had just been attacked by someone. Still, there was a chance it was the other way around and Adrian had gotten hurt by picking a fight with the wrong person. Elliot lowered the colt for the moment, but he kept an eye on the knife in Adrian's hand.

"I can agree to that. But if you're heading for the lighthouse, I'd advise against it. There's nothing there and you're probably not the only one heading there after that last announcement. Why don't you come with me instead? You look like you could use the help and maybe together we can find my friends and a way out of here. What do you say?"

Adrian seemed to think this over for a second before answering. "So, you're the one who killed Jennifer at the lighthouse, huh?" Elliot's expression must have answered the question for him because Adrian started speaking again before he could. He shifted his weight slightly, grimacing as it sent a wave of pain down his injured leg. "Don't worry. Knowing Jennifer I'm sure it wasn't you who attacked her. Sorry man, but I'm going to have to turn you down. It's got nothing to do with you, I just don't like the idea of hanging around people I don't know in this type of situation. You know?" Adrian put the knife back in his pocket and began walking past Elliot on the path. "Good luck though; I think we'll both need plenty of it to get through this"

When the island that provides the lovely setting for this game was first taken over by the military as the location of their new base, many new buildings were built, such as the barracks, the mess hall and the armoury, which would be needed by the new inhabitants. Several of the old buildings were demolished, such as the businesses and shops that were no longer needed. However, to save on time and money, many of the existing buildings were incorporated into the base in any way they could be, such as the residential district that became the officers' quarters as well as a place for visitors to stay, or the doctors' clinic which became the bases hospital.

Amoung these buildings was the warehouse; a massive structure co-owned by the businesses that used to reside here as a place to store their inventory, as well as a few small private owned ones alongside it, which later became the main storage area for the entire base. As such there were many students in the game who might be drawn to such a building in the hopes that it might still contain something useful.

One such student now stood outside the main doors of the largest warehouse, staring up at the large edifice before her. The large sliding doors that allowed vehicles and large crates access to the building was padlocked shut and no amount of effort would be able to open it. So instead, Abigail Ward, a.k.a. G16, walked over to the small, person sized, door that was embedded in the larger door and experimentally pushed it open.

Surprisingly, it swung open with little difficulty and she walked inside before closing it behind her. The inside of the warehouse was more empty than she had thought it would be, but still contained a large number of crates, most of which were located on the other side of the buildings interior, creating a maze of pathways between themselves.

Approaching one of the closer containers, Abigail reached into her pocket and retrieved the pistol she had found in her pack earlier today. Despite being one of the smaller crates in the warehouse, the container she approached still came up to her waist. She raised the pistol in the air and slammed the grip down on the wooden surface, hoping to crack it open enough to see what was inside. When it did not have the desired effect she repeated the action several times over with the same results.

"Dammit"

Abigail began searching around the room for something, a crowbar or just along those lines, to help her pry the lid loose when she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Looking up, she saw that one corner of the warehouse was separated from the rest into two different rooms. The first of which was on the ground floor and appeared to be a lounge of some sort, probably for the workers to use; the second was at the top of a metal set of stairs and had one large window in one wall, which overlooked the rest of the warehouse. It was through this that Abigail caught sight of someone ducking their head down, just as she turned her head in that direction.

Thinking the person might be hostile, she quickly ducked down behind the crate she was just trying to open for cover. She stuck her head back up over the edge a second later and laid her arms on top of the crate. Tightly gripping the pistol in both hands, she aimed it straight at the window above, the small frame of the Walther PPK fitting nicely in her grip. A few minutes passed without any sign of movement or sound from within the office, leading Abigail to think she might have just imagined it.

She slowly stepped out from behind the crate and walked towards the stairs, keeping her eyes and the gun locked on the window. She reached the bottom step and, as quietly as she could on the metal surface, ascended towards the door. Pressing an ear to the metal surface and listening for a few second, Abigail tried her luck in turning the handle. Surprisingly, the handle turned without resistance, but when she tried to push the door open she found something was blocking it from the other side. Had someone barricaded themselves in?

She pressed her shoulder to the door, turned the handle once more and pushed as hard as she could, managing to move whatever it was behind the door back a few inches. With that much of a gap, Abigail was able to squeeze her arm and head through and finally see inside the room. It looked like a simple office for the most part, only a few decades old; two desks, one of which had been pushed back against the door, a chair and one very outdated computer. There was nothing really of interest except for the huddled mass against the far wall.

Abigail raised the Walther and pointed it at the mass, the click of her pulling back the hammer being enough to rouse it and make it raise its head revealing the fearful face of G19, a.k.a. Katherine Davies.

"Stand up. Don't try anything" Katherine hesitated a second under the pressure of having a gun aimed at her, trying to decide if it would be better to just leave the door closed and hope this person could not get it, but soon stood up and hurried over to the door. "Get over here and move the desk away from the door" She grabbed the edge of the desk in both hands and started pulling it backwards until Abigail could open the door enough to enter the room. Katherine stood near the centre of the room, nervously fumbling with her hands as she waited to see what would happen next.

"Are you going to kill me now?"

"What? No, not if I don't have to"

"You're not playing the game?"

"… not if I don't have to", Abigail lowered her gun but kept it by her side. Katherine didn't look like she was going to be much of a threat to anyone at the moment, except maybe herself. "What are you doing in here?"

"I don't know. I just needed to get away for a while, shut out the game and everything else and just _think_ for a bit. I needed time to get this whole situation straight in my head"

"Don't you realise you're just boxing yourself in like this? What if I was playing the game? You had nowhere to run to, I could have killed you"

"I know, I wasn't really thinking properly at the time though, too scared…" Katherine turned away from Abigail and looked out the large window at the warehouse floor. "I had a run in with someone at the start of the game, nothing serious, but being chased through the woods with someone wielding a chainsaw tends to leave an impression on you…"

"What, really? At least you got away ok", Abigail stood still for a moment in shock, trying to think through all the people she knew who were in the game that might go crazy like that. She could not think of any possibilities, but that didn't mean there weren't any. She walked over and joined Katherine by the window, looking out. "Do know what's in any of these crates? Anything of use?"

"The lid on one of the crates was loose and I was able to get it open, but all that was inside was a bunch of office supplies. Do you want a pen? Because I've got about ten thousand of them"

Abigail shook her head in the negative and then just went back to looking out over the warehouse floor. "So, what are you going to do now? Now that your hiding place has been found out", It was strange; a second ago she was ready to kill this girl if need be, and now she was actually a little concerned about her.

"I don't really see the problem. Unless you go around telling everyone you see where I am, I could just close the door again and it'll be the same as before. Better yet, you could stay here with me. With a gun this place will be a lot safer and you wouldn't have to deal with all the crazies out there. What do you think?"

"I'm ok with that. I'll stay for a while. But I'm leaving in a couple of hours no matter what. I just really don't like the idea of staying in one place for too long" Abigail walked over to the door and closed it, pushing the desk back against it before turning back to face Katherine and sat down on top of it. "You can call me Abbi by the way"


	16. Thirteenth Hour 37 Students Remaining

Thirteenth Hour – 37 Students Remaining

"This is it?"

"Yep, if we followed the map right, this should be it."

"It's a dump."

The girl with dark blond hair holding the map turned to her brunette friends standing next to her. "What were you expecting, a five star hotel? All the buildings on this island are decades old. Of course it's a dump. Come on." Amber Woods, a.k.a. G15, walked up to the front door of the clinic building and lightly pushed on the wooden surface. It opened slightly with a creak to reveal the darkened room beyond which appeared, for the moment, to be empty.

She turned back to the three other people in her group and waited for them to start following her before walking through the door. The room she entered appeared to be the waiting room of the old doctor's clinic. At the back of the small room was the receptionist's desk, next to a corridor that led deeper into the building. The area close to the door was the waiting area; it even had a table covered with old magazines.

While the others were getting settled in this part of the building, dropping their packs and sitting down on the benches after the walk across the island, Amber walked towards the corridor to see what was at the back of the building. She held her hammer out in front of her as she approached the first of the two doors leading off from the hallway. She pushed open the door and peered inside; it seemed to be an examination room, the kind one would find in any doctor's office, albeit a few decades out of date. There was a glass fronted cabinet hanging on one wall, which upon closer inspection appeared to contain a bunch of plastic medicine bottles.

The second room was nearly identical, so she moved on to the door at the end of the corridor. This door looked newer than the others and when she walked through she could tell it was because this part of the building was not added until after the military arrived. It was a long room lined on either side by beds covered in sterile white sheets one would expect to find in a hospital ward, which is probably what the room was supposed to be.

Amber re-entered the waiting room to find everyone still there. Brianna sat on one of the benches, Sandra looked out one of the windows with her gun at the ready, and Alice stood just inside the door, looking a little lost.

"There are some medicine cabinets in the rooms back there. It's probably all out of date, but I don't think medicine ever really stops working like that. Plus, there's a full ward back there with loads of beds. I think we should stay here"

As soon as Amber said this, she knew it was a mistake as Brianna immediately raised her head to glare at her. She did not know why, but lately Brianna had been even more bossy and aggressive than ever and they had been arguing on almost every point. "Look Amber, you're not in charge of this group. You don't get to make the decisions like that"

"But I wasn't try-"

"We all get a say in this, and I say we keep moving before someone else shows up. What are we supposed to do here if someone attacks us?"

"We'll board the windows up and lock the doors" As she said this, Amber raised her hammer as if to emphasize how she was going to do this. "I'd honestly feel a lot better being attacked here than being attacked while we're walking across the island. But it's not just up to us, so what do you guys think?"

Amber turned her head from side to side to see both Alice's and Sandra's responses. Alice gave the expected response, which was to shrug and then continue staring into space. Sandra, however, had yet to make a move. "Well, I think that's a yes from Alice"

Brianna crossed her arms and looked over at Sandra, who was still staring out of the window. "So, Sandra, what do you think we should do?" There was a moment silence and for a second it looked like Sandra was just going to stay quiet and keep out of the argument as usual.

"I think we should stay here"

A number of different emotions crossed Brianna's face after that, but the defining ones were certainly anger and shock. Without saying a word, she grabbed her pack from the floor and stormed off towards the back of the building, probably to the ward in the back to claim a bed for herself.

Amber was not really surprised by this reaction; hearing about Jennifer's death over the speakers had an effect on everyone in the group. Brianna, for her part, seemed to become even more bossy and aggressive; maybe she was trying harder to fill in the role of leader now that Jennifer was not only absent, but deceased. Sandra seemed to be saddened by the news, but if it really bothered her it did not show much. She just carried on as normal, brandishing her Mac10 and acting as the group's protector, keeping out of any arguments. Alice, well, Alice had yet to show any emotion, about anything, and hearing about the death of a girl she hardly even knew was not going to change that.

Amber could not really say how she felt; she was sad when she heard, of course, but no more so than for the other names Barret read out. That was not to say she did not like Jennifer; they were friends, after all, but…. She guessed she was just numb to it all, like the names being read off did not represent real people, that she needed to focus on her own safety and the safety of the people with her right now. Everything else was merely background noise.

"So, I guess we better start getting this place siege worthy. Sandra, can you go look for some nails? Alice, can you help me break the legs off this table here? We can use it to board up one of the windows"

As Sandra disappeared from sight down the corridor leading out of the waiting room, Amber and Alice flipped the wooden table and Amber began trying to remove the first leg with her hammer while Alice held it steady.

"Brianna is a problem you need to deal with"

For a second, Amber thought maybe her subconscious was speaking to her, informing her of something she herself had been thinking. When she looked up however, she saw Alice staring back at her, waiting for a response.

"What?"

"Brianna, she keeps arguing with you on every decision. It is a problem"

"I know, but what can I do about it? She's right, I'm not the leader here and she's allowed to disagree with me"

"The group cannot continue as it is with the current power struggle between you two. I would prefer to have you leading us than Brianna. She does not have a clue what she is doing and you would be in charge already if Brianna did not keep fighting you with every step"

"Yeah, I guess you're right, but Brianna's always been stubborn. I don't know if I can do anything about this"

"You need to do something. Sooner or later all her arguing and stalling is going to get someone killed"

Just then, Sandra re-entered the room and Alice went back to trying to remove the screws for one of the table legs with her switchblade. Apparently, she was not willing to have this discussion around other people. Sandra threw her a small cardboard box which she caught. Looking at the label, she saw that it was a box of nails. "I found those in a maintenance cupboard, there aren't any more though so use them carefully"

"Okay… thanks", Amber put the box down before going back to removing the legs from the table. That conversation with Alice had brought up a lot of questions for her. She was right of course; she would need to do something about the situation with Brianna. Maybe try and patch things up with her? Maybe if she saw how their fighting could hurt the group she would back down? No, the questions Amber had were about Alice herself; ever since they found her and decided to bring her along, she had barely said more than three words to them. She always answered by nodding or pointing instead. Amber just chalked it up to PTSD, trauma over having to kill Edward after he attacked her, but then she goes and does something like this; having a full blown conversation with her about the current situation within the group and offering suggestions about how to fix it.

This showed that the quietness, the introverted behaviour and general aura of creepiness were all on purpose; she was not sure what to think of that. Before, Alice was the poor, traumatized girl who needed to be looked after. Now, she had proven herself to be capable, observant, and even a little conniving. Amber would have to remember to keep an eye on her.

She focused back on the task at hand and realized they were finished. All the legs had been removed and they were ready to start boarding up the windows. "Okay, you two lift this up to the window and I'll nail it in place. Then, we can start on getting the rest of this place sealed up..."

One would think after the last announcement that nobody would even consider heading in the direction of the barracks, with the graphic description of the event that took place there and Barret's suggestion to go take a look sending a clear message of "someone died here, stay the hell away or you are next", Indeed, a few people who were walking in that direction decided to take the long way around instead.

However, that did not stop one person from choosing to venture to this potentially dangerous location. Steven Ambrose, a.k.a. B3, was not concerned with all that. In fact, it was the reason he chose to come here; if everyone was afraid to come here, then it meant he would have the entire place to himself, at least until the fear faded. The killer had most likely left as well after so long, though it was still with a slight sense of trepidation that Steven approached the building itself.

Steven stepped up to the open door and looked inside; the whole place seemed empty, except for the multiple beds strewn about the room, and it did not seem like there was anyone inside- dead or otherwise. Only the smell of blood, with a slight tint of decomposition, stopped Steven from entering the place fully. That alone was enough to tell him Barret was not lying, at least when it came to the locations he mentioned.

Backing away from the door, Steven turned around and walked in the direction of the other building in the clearing. It was far smaller than the barracks and much more non-descript as well; no windows, no identifying features, just a plain, square, brick building beside the main one. The map he was given made no mention of what it was, both buildings were just listed as Barracks, but if Steven had to guess, he would have to say it was just a storage shed or something. For a second, he wondered if maybe he would get lucky and it would be an armoury, but then remembered another building was already labelled as such on a different part of the island.

Steven pushed open the door to the small building, and as soon as he saw what it contained, he knew he had hit the jackpot. It did not hold weapons, or supplies, but it had something Steven wanted more than anything none the less: a shower. The room was split into two halves by a dividing wall; the side he was on now had a row of sinks up against it with a series of mirrors on the wall above them. Against the other wall of the room was a set of bathroom stalls like one would find in any public restroom. The other half of the building was just one big shower area, the walls and floor were completely covered in tiles and the walls were lined with shower heads. Some were separated by abutting walls that turned a few of them into semi-private stalls, but the remainder was communal.

Walking over to the sinks, Steven wiped the dust from the surface of the mirror and took a look at his reflection. While not exactly covered in dirt, after several hours walking through the forest and one murder, there was a definite layer of grime covering his skin; not to mention the blood under his fingernails or the state of his clothes. Now, if he was completely honest with himself, Steven was a little vain, narcissistic, and liked to take care of his looks. So, to someone who prided themselves in their appearance as he did, the image that was reflected in the mirror back at him was not something he wanted to see. He weighed up the risk and reward of taking a shower right now. On the one hand, someone could come in while he was basically defenceless and kill him, but on the other he would be clean and would not have to go around looking like this.

Deciding he could risk at least a quick shower before anyone else got up the courage to return to the barracks, Steven walked away from the sinks and into the showers. He walked over to one of the stalls at the very back of the room and dropped his pack down onto the floor; if someone was going to come in, being this far back would give him the most time to react. Not wasting any time, he stripped off and laid his clothes on top of his pack, removing the knife from his trousers and hiding it within the pile of clothes where it could not be seen.

He grabbed the baseball bat from the top of the pile and stepped into the shower stall, leaning the bat against the tiled dividing wall where he could easily grab it at a moment's notice.

_'I'm not going to let myself get caught off guard so easily. The only thing worse than dying here would be to die naked, so humiliating...'_

Steven turned on the shower, hoping the water still worked and, if he was lucky enough, might even be warm. With a sputter, the water started pouring and he stuck his hand under it experimentally. It seemed warm enough and growing warmer by the second, so he stepped under the stream. When the hot water hit him, he visibly relaxed, his shoulders slouching as he felt the dirt being washed off of him.

He must have been standing there under the water for several minutes before he heard it, the gentle creaking that could just be heard over the sound of water hitting tile that announced the arrival of someone else in the shower building. Steven turned off the water and stopped for a second, waiting for the second noise that would confirm what he feared. As he listened, he heard the soft padding of footsteps on the floor, growing slightly louder with each step.

Panicking, Steven reached over and grabbed the baseball bat from its resting place and leaned back against the wall, waiting. The footsteps stopped when they got about halfway across the room and a second later he heard a voice call out.

"Hello? Who's there?"

From the voice, Steven could tell that whoever had come in was a girl, but right now he did not know if that was a good thing or a bad thing for him at this point.

"I know someone's back there. I can see your clothes."

He decided the first thing he needed to do was stop her from getting any closer and maybe finding the knife hidden in the pile of clothes he had stupidly left out in the open.

"Urm, can you go wait on the other side of the wall please? I'm kind of undressed at the moment."

"Yeah, obviously. Fine, I'll go wait by the door." Following this announcement, Steven could hear the sound of retreating footsteps. Leaning out around the stall wall with the bat at the ready, he could see whomever that was had left him to get dressed in privacy. Well mostly.

"What were you thinking when you decided to get in and have a shower here? 'It might get me killed, but at least I'll leave a clean corpse'?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"I'm sure it did."

He quickly went and knelt down by the pile of his clothes, removing the knife from its confines before quietly placing it under his pack. He reached for his clothes to start getting dressed when a sudden realization hit him, one that his mysterious visitor had apparently at about the same time.

"Just out of curiosity, how were you planning on drying yourself when you were done?"

"….I never claimed it was a _well thought out_ idea. Look, could you just stop asking questions and let me get dressed?"

Quickly finishing getting dressed and trying to ignore the fact he was still wet, Steven retrieved the knife from under his pack and tucked it into the back pocket of his trousers. He lifted his pack onto his shoulder and picked the baseball bat up off the floor again. He was out from the shower area and back into the other half of the building, where he finally came face-to-face with his guest.

On the counter in one of the spaces between sinks was G21, a.k.a. Cassandra Evans, sitting there with her legs crossed and a smug little smirk on her face that annoyed Steven immensely. He momentarily considered the option of stabbing her then and there and being done with this whole ordeal, but quickly rethought this once he saw her weapon. Leaning across the sink next to her was a long pole topped with a heavy metal head, the sledgehammer threatening by its very presence. Thinking about his baseball bat in comparison, he realized he probably would not be able to stand up to her in a straight fight.

"You're looking a little drowned there, want me to go look for a towel or something?"

"Look, just drop it, okay?"

So Steven would just have to do what he had been planning to do for this whole game; act innocent, act harmless- or at least harmless compared to his intended victims, anyway- and when they had let their guard down he would attack them. So, let Cassandra act smugly for now, Steven would just have to keep acting embarrassed and endure the ridicule until he either saw the right moment to strike or they went their separate ways.

"You know, I really don't get you."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I've always thought of you as vain, kind of narcissistic if you know what I mean? I'd of thought you'd take an opportunity to show off your body gratefully, rather than act all bashful like this. It's not what I expected."

"Maybe you think to lowly of me."

".…nope, I think I'm spot on, just not in this situation."

Okay then, new plan. Either he convinces Cassandra to team up with him or he follows her around after she leaves. Whichever way, Steven was not letting this girl go after she just insulted him like that; she was going to die by his hand.

"If you're done making fun of me, how about we team up? We'd have a better chance of staying alive if we stick together."

Cassandra changed her expression to a deep, thoughtful one and seemed to take way too long in making a decision, obviously trying to draw it out to toy with him. This girl really was infuriating.

"Okay, I'll let you tag along with me. But we better wait and let you dry out before we go anywhere. We wouldn't want you to get a cold now, would we?"

Seething inside Steven gritted his teeth as he forced out a semi-civil answer, "Couldn't you just say 'yes' like a normal person?" Putting up with this person without losing his temper long enough to take them by surprise would be extremely difficult.


	17. Fourteenth Hour 37 Students Remaining

Fourteenth Hour – 37 Students Remaining

Despite the large number of roads, paths, and other built-up areas on the island, progress from one location to another was always slow going. Especially if you were travelling through the forest instead, which had grown thick in the decades since the facility on the island had been abandoned. Also, when you were carrying a large pack full of equipment, had not slept or really even slowed down in the past fourteen hours, and were most likely injured, it became inevitable you would need to stop every now and then. Even if the person in front of you was clearing a path for you with his recently acquired machete.

"Wait, wait. I'm sorry; I've got to stop again." Samantha Winters, a.k.a. G6, stopped and leant back against the tree behind her, dropping her pack from her shoulder as the weight of it became unbearable once more.

"It's your leg, isn't it? It's still hurting you too much." Kevin Landers, a.k.a. B1, stopped and turned around, looking worriedly at his girlfriend.

"It's not as bad as my arm, but yeah. Its fine, I just need to rest a bit 'til my leg stops hurting." Samantha tilted her head to look at the inexpertly wrapped bandage on her bicep. Even though they had managed to wash all of the blood from her arms from the wound back at the river, the clean, white cloth was now stained completely red since they had been unable to stop the bleeding. Kevin walked over to stand by Samantha and crouched down so as to be closer to eye level with her, looking into her eyes with concern.

"You need to stay off your leg for a bit, it's not doing you any good to constantly put weight on it like this. Here, let me carry you for a while." Kevin reached forward with both arms, moving to lift Samantha off her feet, but she knocked his hands away before he could.

"I said its fine, Kevin. You don't need to do that."

He stood and backed away a few steps, dejected, before recovering slightly and reached forward again, with only one hand this time. "At least let me carry the bag for you and take away that burden."

Samantha knew he was only trying to make things up to her, because he blamed himself for what happened. For letting her get hurt in the first place, for not being there when she needed him. It was completely untrue and she never held anything against him for what happened, but she knew that would not make a difference to him. Better to just let him help wherever he could. She lifted the pack up off the ground and dropped the strap into his hand. "Okay then, thank you."

After a few minutes, Samantha's leg had stopped hurting enough for her to start walking again. She pushed herself away from the tree behind her and the two of them started walking once more with Kevin leading the way, now weighed down by both of their packs.

They continued on this path for a while uneventfully, with Samantha feeling she would be able to walk a lot further before stopping this time now that she did not have so much weight on her shoulders, before something caught her attention. Rushing ahead, she grabbed hold of Kevin's arm and halted him in his tracks. He turned to face her, confused, but caught on when she pointed to her ear and then back to the trees to the side.

Now that they had stopped, they could indeed hear another set of footsteps progressing in their general direction. Before they could react and try to hide, however, a figure emerged into view several feet away from them and froze. Immediately, Kevin stepped in front of Samantha protectively, holding the machete up in front of him with both hands like a sword. The other student stepped closer to Kevin and from her position behind him Samantha could not see who it was, but could tell from his voice they were a male.

"Don't get any closer." Kevin did his best to place himself between his girlfriend and the new arrival, using one arm to hold Samantha behind him. He did not know what kind of weapon this guy had or if he was willing to use it, but he was not going to take any chances either way.

"Hey, I'm not looking for any trouble."

"I said, don't get any closer!" Behind Kevin, Samantha was getting a little worried. Kevin was normally much calmer than this, but she could tell from his voice that he was getting angry, or maybe just scared. Whichever it was, Samantha was worried something was going to happen if he did not calm down soon.

"Can't we just talk? I'm not going to try to hurt anyone; I don't even have a weapon."

"I'm not taking any chances. Now back off." Deciding to stop things before they went too far, she stepped in front of Kevin and held the two boys apart. Now that her view was not blocked, she could see the student was none other than B9, a.k.a. Daniel Lancaster.

Daniel held in his hand a brightly coloured plastic tube, apparently his weapon, defensively. Kevin tried to push forward past her to get to him and she pushed him back with her arms, wincing as she felt the injury on her arm troubling her again. Seeing this, Kevin forgot all about Daniel momentarily and instead lowered the machete to the ground, helping Samantha sit down.

"I'm fine. My arm just hurt for a second, that's all."

"How badly is she hurt?" Daniel, apparently, had noticed this as well, along with the bloodied bandage on her arm, and was already digging around in his bag for the first aid kit. "How long ago did she get the injury?" Having found the kit, he stood back up and started to move towards Samantha when Kevin again put himself between the two of them.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Helping her. Judging by how dirty that bandage is, I'm guessing you didn't close the wound. If you don't let me past so I can stitch her up, there's a good chance she'll get an infection."

Kevin opened his mouth to argue again, but was cut short as Samantha grabbed hold of his leg from where she sat. Kevin looked down to see her staring back at him sternly. "He's right, Kevin. Let him do what he needs to do. He's only trying to help us."

With a sigh, Kevin backed down, stepping out of the way to let Daniel past. Kevin walked a few feet away and stood where he could keep an eye on both of them, leaning back against a tree with his arms crossed, the machete held in one hand. Meanwhile, the smaller boy had crouched down next to Samantha and opened the first aid kit, removing the sewing kit and some fresh bandages which he put aside for now. Daniel started by removing the old wrappings from Samantha's bicep, pulling away the loose-fitting, bloodied cloth with ease.

"Who wrapped this thing? It's done all wrong." Daniel looked up at Samantha's face as he asked this, and she pointed over his shoulder towards Kevin by way of response. He nodded once as he went back to work, pulling a water bottle out of his pack and unscrewing the lid. "It's not that bad, actually. You did an okay job for someone with no experience, but you should have tried to stop the bleeding first or else the bandages aren't going to help. Also you should have put some of the gauze on her arm first, and then tied the bandage to hold it in place." Daniel poured some of the contents of the bottle onto Samantha's arm, washing the blood away and giving Daniel a better look at the wound itself. "Yeah, that's not so bad, a pretty clean cut. Just give me a few minutes to sew this up and I'll take a look at whatever other cuts you've got."

He grabbed the sewing kit from amongst the other first aid equipment and opened it up. He swiftly threaded a needle and got to work; reaching up to Samantha's bicep with one hand and pinching the open wound together so that he could sew it back up. He heard her stifle a quiet yelp of pain as he pressed the needle into her skin. "Sorry, I should have warned you it would hurt."

"No, it's fine. Where did you learn to do this sort of thing anyway? You seem to really know what you're doing."

"….my dad. I learned it from my dad."

Daniel watched anxiously as the needle pressed into and penetrated the skin, passing through to the other side and taking the thread with it. It always surprised him that something so simple, using a needle and a piece of string to sew a wound back together, could still be used alongside more modern and complicated techniques to heal people.

He sat on one of the countertops running along the side of the hospital treatment room as he watched the doctor work with practiced ease, the needle moving swiftly and the patient not showing an ounce of discomfort despite the fact he was basically being jabbed repeatedly in the arm. The stitches were finished rather quickly and soon the patient was nodding his hand in thanks and leaving. The doctor removed the sterile, rubber gloves from his hands and threw them away before turning to face the young boy watching him from his perch at the side of the room.

"Well Daniel, what do you think of what you've seen so far?"

"It's great, dad! You get to help so many different people. That's what I want to do when I grow up."

"You want to be a doctor? Are you sure? It's a lot of hard work."

"I don't mind, I want to do it."

"Okay then." Daniel's father walked over to one of the many cabinets in the room and opened the door, disappearing behind it for a few seconds before returning with two objects in his hands. The first was a kit similar to the one he just used on the patient a minute ago. The other was a small, cushion-like object that looked well used. Daniel's father placed both of these on the counter next to him and stepped back. "This is what we use to teach medical students how to stitch open wounds closed. You should recognise the needle and thread already, you just saw me use those. The cushion is for you to practice on. Why don't you give it a try?"

Daniel eagerly leaped at the opportunity, taking the pre-threaded needle and cushion and trying to copy what he had seen his father do a minute ago. After several failed attempts and retries he had something that resembled the stitches he had seen in the patient's arm before he left. His father came around a second later and examined what he had done.

"Hmm, it's not bad, but it's still not right. You need to make the stitches closer together, or else it won't stop the blood, and you need to make them tighter, or they will pop out too easily." He reached forward and took hold of one piece of the thread, gently tugging and pulling the whole arrangement loose. "See? Still, this is better than what some of the students I've seen do on their first try. You might actually have a talent for this. Why don't you keep that and you can continue practicing at home?"

The young Daniel beamed up at his father at the praise, happy he had been able to do so well but still disappointed he had not been able to do as well as he wanted.

"Daniel….? Daniel!"

His eyes refocusing and finally noticing the hand being waved in his face, Daniel snapped out of his memory and looked over at Samantha, whom was obviously concerned.

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay? You kind of drifted off after you finished, you looked really intense."

"Yeah, sorry, I was just remembering something. Wait, I finished?"

"Yeah, you finished the stitches in my arm and then I asked you to take a look at my leg as well, but you were already gone."

Daniel looked at Samantha's exposed bicep and saw he had indeed finished closing the wound there. Surprised, he looked further down and noted Samantha did have another, smaller cut on her leg that would need his attention as well. He scooted over and picked up his water bottle again, repeating the process of cleaning, threading a needle, and stitching.

While he worked, Daniel thought back to the memory that had suddenly floated to the top of his mind just before. He was much younger then, maybe seven or eight, and he remembered being in awe of his father- the doctor. The way he worked, the way he helped people, and the way the patients and other staff respected him all made Daniel want to be just like him later in life. That had been what had inspired his interest in medicine in the first place.

"That's it, all done." He finished placing the last stitch in Samantha's leg and then stood up, stepping back to admire his handiwork. She ran her hand over her leg, checking to make sure the stitches would hold in place and also marvelling at how well Daniel had done his job.

"Wow, you're really good at this sort of thing. Did your dad really teach you this?"

Daniel looked over at Samantha for a moment before turning back to his pack on the ground, packing his things away. "Yeah. Well, sort of. He was a doctor at the hospital back home. He taught me a few things, like how to do stitches, and started my interest in medicine. I was learning first aid and reading medical books in my spare time while we were at school. I was hoping to be a doctor just like him." Daniel placed the last item back in his pack and stood up, throwing the strap over his shoulder as he did so. "So much for that plan. Well, I guess this is where we part ways; glad I could help you at least."

Samantha quickly stood upon hearing this, wavering slightly on her injured leg, but feeling a lot better now it had been closed up. "Wait, you're leaving? Why not come with us?" Kevin bristled noticeably to this, apparently still unsure as to Daniel's trustworthiness, or just not wanting to team up with someone else, but did not voice any objections.

Daniel turned away from the other two, looking in the direction they had been coming from. "Thanks for the offer, but no. I'm going to keep going by myself for a bit, see if I can find anyone else that needs help. I'll probably head for the hospital first; see if I can find any supplies there that aren't broken or too old."

Samantha wore a concerned expression on her face, while Kevin maintained a more indifferent air. After a second of deliberation, Samantha hurried over to Kevin and reached into one of the packs he was still carrying. She pulled out a small, black device which she then showed to Daniel. At first the screen that covered most of its surface displayed nothing but black, but after pressing a button on the side it lit up to show an overlay of the island.

"What is this?"

"It's a GPS; it shows the location of everyone on the island. It doesn't tell us their names, but at least lets us know where people are. Look, this is the hospital here." She got his attention by pointing at a particular location on the screen. Four small dots could be seen standing and moving inside the small square on the screen. Three in the smallest part and another in the large room connected to it. "Looks like there are four people already there. Are you sure you still want to go?"

"Yeah, I have to go. I have to at least do something, have to help somehow. Medicine is all I know."

"Okay then, just take care of yourself. All right?" Samantha stepped forward and placed a hand on Daniel's shoulder for a second before stepping past him onto the path. "Good luck. Come on Kevin, let's go."

Kevin started walking forward next, both packs being carried on his shoulders and the machete back in his hand. He paused momentarily as he walked past Daniel, tilting his head in his direction slightly. "Thanks for your help. Be careful out there."

"Thanks, you too."

Gavin Matthews, a.k.a. B20, stood at the edge of a wide open clearing, one that sat at the very tip of the map, nearly meeting with the cliffs at the Northwest corner of the island. While he could tell from the map it was going to be large, larger than any other building marked on the map, he was still shocked by the scale of what he saw before him. When he read the words "airfield," he assumed it was going to be something rather small, nothing more than a thin strip of runway and maybe a control tower. What he found was much more than that.

The landing strip was as wide across as a four lane highway and stretched as far into the distance as Gavin could see. To both sides of the runway there was a gap between the edges of the tarmac and the trees that seemed to populate every area of this island. On the smaller strip of land on the Eastern side of the airfield stood two small structures, literally nothing more than long arches made out of steel. He had seen something like them before and guessed they were a sort of hanger where a single plane could park under.

A much more conventional hanger took up most of the space on the other side of the airfield, the wide doors sitting open and exposing the interior. No planes sat inside and Gavin wondered if maybe the last plane to occupy that space was the same one he had spent the beginning of the game sitting in the wreckage of.

However, by far the most eye-catching feature of the clearing was the control tower, a four story behemoth that towered over everything else, possibly also being the tallest structure on the island, except for maybe the lighthouse on the opposite side of the map. Even from this distance, Gavin could see most, if not all, of the windows on the top floor had been broken. He wondered for a second if maybe the windows had been shattered recently and someone had made it here before him, but it did not seem likely. He had not seen nor heard a single trace of another person since leaving the site of the crashed airplane several hours ago, not since he had foolishly let himself get taken in by Steven's lies and almost been killed. He had not heard any gunshots either recently, and definitely not from this direction, so he could only assume nobody had made it this far up the island yet.

Gavin started walking along the runway, the aged tarmac cracked in certain places with weeds growing up through it beneath his feet. He ignored the larger hanger for the moment and walked right past it, thinking it less likely to contain anything useful, and made a mental note to check the inside later on. He then passed by the two smaller hangers halfway down the length of the runway. In the first, he spotted a few boxes, crates, and metal barrels, as well as several scattered mechanical parts he does not recognize.

In the second, he notices something much more interesting; an old military plane of some description sat under the roof of the hanger, so covered in rust and grime accumulated over the years he would not have been able to tell you what model it was even if he knew about that sort of thing. He would have approached it, gotten a closer look to see if it could be used in any way at all to help, but judging from the fact it lacked any sort of propeller, or from the looks of things even an engine, he decided not to bother.

He continued on, the tower reaching higher into the sky above him as it grew progressively closer. Eventually, he reached the base and approached the door, solid steel embedded in the concrete wall. Pushing it open, he walked inside and directly in front of him was the steel staircase that would lead up to the next flight and absolutely nothing else around; this place was clearly built to serve a purpose and nothing else. Behind the door was a small alcove that provided some space for storage, at the moment it contained a couple of large, heavy looking boxes. He considered dragging them over and using them to barricade the door shut, but decided against it. Better to leave himself an open exit until he knew for sure this place was empty, making it secure against threats outside would come later.

Gavin walked up the stairs slowly, one at a time. His feet made soft noises on the metal surface and his hands ran along the bare concrete wall beside him for balance. He ascended four stories in total before reaching the top, emerging onto a small landing at the end of the stairs that ended in another steel door. Again there was an alcove just behind it with another heavy box inside; maybe he could barricade this door as well when he had the time.

Hesitantly, he approached the door before him and pressed himself against the wall just to the side of it. He pulled his weapon out of his pocket, pulling back the slide on the Berretta so it was ready to fire. Taking a deep breath, he suddenly threw open the door and rushed into the room, pistol raised in one hand and eyes searching out anyone who might be inhabiting the area.

A cool breeze from the broken windows hit Gavin in the face and he flinched away. He looked around the room and realized it was empty, lowering the gun. There was nothing inside the room that should not be there, just the normal equipment. In the centre of the room a large table laid bare except for a few loose sheets of paper, complex looking consoles set against all three walls sat under the windows. Tarps lay across the surfaces of some, flapping in the wind from the broken windows. Upon closer inspection, it appeared most of the equipment in the room had been broken at some point, the cracked screens and damaged panels showing that someone had intentionally sabotaged them.

Gavin moved towards the other end of the room and leaned forward, hands braced on the broken console in front of him for support as he looked out at the airfield from this new vantage point. From here he could see pretty much everything, from one end of the runway to another; every hanger, every inch of the tree line surrounding this place. If he stayed here, he would be guaranteed safety, barricade both sets of doors into this place, keep a constant look out and nobody could touch him.

"Let's see you try and sneak up on me this time, you bastard."


	18. Fifthteenth Hour 37 Students Remaining

Author's Note – Sorry for the delay. I actually had this written a couple of weeks ago I just kept forgetting to get it ready and post it. The next one shouldn't take so long to appear, hopefully

Fifteenth Hour – 37 Students Remaining

Vincent Sullivan, a.k.a. B4, had thought a lot about his position since this game had started. He had plenty of time for it, after all, and not much else to occupy it with, thus had come to a conclusion: he wanted to survive. That may seem like an obvious enough point for anyone to make, but there were a lot of different things to take into consideration.

Was his life back home worth going back to? Yes, it was. He was popular, good looking, and was assured to get into a great college, either by his parents footing the bill or from a football scholarship. He had too much waiting for him, and too much to look forward to in the future, to just give up here.

He'd need to kill, probably kill quite a lot, to be able to make it through this. Not much of a problem for him, nobody who was on that bus was all that important to him, certainly no one who was not expendable. Sure, he had a few friends who were on the island as well and he was sad about that. Yet he had to face it, they were most likely going at some point in this game anyway and if it was a choice between them and him, well he would choose himself every time.

So that was it, he wanted to survive, and to do that he needed to thin the number of people on the island a little bit. Which led him to where he was now; the girl in front of him was peacefully unaware of his presence in the trees as she sat down by the side of the main road, the one that ran almost the entire length of the island. He moved his weapon into his hand in preparation, the police baton fitting into his grip perfectly as he held onto the handle, which stuck out from the weapon at a ninety degree angle.

Moving forward, he rounded the tree confidently, not bothering much to sneak other than to move slowly as the soft grass beneath him cushioned his footfalls enough to muffle any sound being made. As he drew closer, he raised the hand holding the baton higher into the air, preparing for the moment when he would swing it downwards and use it to crack her head open. The closer he got the more details about her appearance he took note of; the red hair, the pale skin, her small stature apparent even from this distance. It was almost a shame to have to kill her this way, anonymously.

Of course, just as he thought this, she turned to face him with her eyes widening as they saw him- only to then narrow slightly as they spotted the baton in his hand. Vincent froze as her gaze bore into, his natural instinct to play innocent when caught overriding his better judgement. In some part of his mind he recognized the girl as someone he shared a couple of classes with- what was her name? Lilly… something? He snapped out of his thoughts and surged forward the last few feet, swinging the baton across at her and aiming to smash it into her temple.

He was surprised when, instead of hearing and feeling the connection of wood and skull like he expected, he only saw her swiftly duck under the path of his arm. He was even more surprised a second later when he felt her fist slam into his stomach, the appendage much more solid and far more painful than it should have been for someone her size.

Doubled over, he staggered backwards until he was far away enough to see her again. She had already gotten up and now stood at her full, if unimpressive, height and had taken what he recognized as a boxers stance. Recovering quickly, he stood up straight and towered over her despite not being all that tall himself. He tightened his grip on the baton in his hands as he stepped towards her again. He reached his arm back and swung the baton in an overhead arc with as much force as he could, only for the much smaller girl to deftly jump to the side and lash out with a couple of quick jabs to his ribs. Again he wondered why the hits felt so painful to him when he noticed the glint of metal surrounding her closed fists. It wasn't until he looked closer that he noticed the two sets of brass knuckles that she wore, one on each hand.

"Guess that explains it, but those won't help you once I break your arms you little bitch!"

Rushing forward again, he swung the baton around at her horizontally, only to be dismayed as she once again ducked down, her shortness helping her to escape under the arc of the attack easily. He felt it coming before it actually hit, her metal enhanced fist slamming into his stomach, then rising up to his chest before she suddenly stood directly in front of him and brought her fist up with her, giving him a solid uppercut that rattled his jaw. He stumbled back and she jumped clear of any counter-attack he might have made. He reached up with his free hand to rub at his sore jaw while he glared at her.

"You thought just because you were the big, strong jock I was going to be an easy target?" Not backing down despite the obvious difference in their physical abilities, Lilly Gordon, a.k.a. G20, glared back at Vincent and even took a step forward to close the distance between them. "My older brother was an amateur boxer; you pick up a thing or two living with someone like that for so long and seeing them practice. I could kick your ass even without these things."

As if to prove her point, she sprinted towards him, closing the distance between them before he could react and threw another punch at him. Being on the defensive this time did not help Vincent's performance any as he was still unable to do anything to block the brass knuckles as they again connected painfully with his ribcage, digging into his flesh. Lilly continued to lash out at the larger boy, her metal tipped punches landing heavily on his torso and also a few on his head and face. All attempts he made at blocking were eventually forgotten as they did nothing to stop the smaller, faster student from slipping past and landing another painful blow against him. Instead, he opted to flail the weapon wildly in the hopes of hitting her.

Vincent grinned with satisfaction as he felt the shock flow down his arm from the baton colliding with something. However, that smirk was quickly wiped from his face as he felt his legs being taken out from under him in the confusion. He landed heavily on his back, the wind being knocked out of him as his pack was pushed into his back. He lay there for a second with the bright, early afternoon sky above him.

He was given no chance to recover before Lilly's face appeared above his and blocked out the sun.

He saw her reach back with one hand before bringing it down on his head with as much force as she could muster, doing it twice more for good measure. Starts danced in front of his vision and the rest of her actions were a mystery to him, though he vaguely felt the baton slipping from between his fingers, presumably being picked up by Lilly to help with the job of finishing him off.

He sensed, more than felt, a weight settle down next to him and knew that he was about to be killed. He would not be able to stand up and get out of there before Lilly was smashed his head in the way he had been planning to do to her. As this fact sunk in, he closed his eyes in anticipation and felt the rage slowly building up inside of him. How could he have allowed himself to get into this situation? How could this little girl have beaten him? And why had nothing happened yet?

He opened his eyes curiously to see Lilly was indeed kneeling next to him as he expected, the baton in her hands pointed straight down as if she planned to stake him with it rather than just hit him. She was not looking down at him however; instead something off to the side held her attention far more intently. Following her gaze, he spotted the problem, or rather _her_ problem.

"Get away from him."

Standing no less than twenty feet away, surprisingly having gotten that close without Vincent even noticing, stood the large, imposing form of B13, a.k.a. Derrick Hudson. A figure made even more imposing by the handgun he held pointed at Lilly. It was to Vincent's incredibly good fortune that of all the people who could stumble onto this scene, it was one of the few people who would call him a friend. Good old, dependable Derrick, always willing to help someone out and too stupid to do anything other than blindly trust that his friend was the one being wronged here.

When Lilly did not move, and in fact tightened her grip on the baton instead, he aimed the gun slightly to her side and pulled the trigger. She jumped when the bullet hit the ground, kicking up a bunch of dirt and Vincent could see the concerned look on her face from this new development.

"I will shoot you if you don't move _right now._"

After a second of hesitation, Lilly fell back onto her heels and scrambled to her feet. Keeping her eyes locked on Derrick the entire time, she quickly walked back to where her pack still lay on the floor and picked it up. Giving them both one last look, she turned around and tore off at a quick sprint in the opposite direction. While she did this, Vincent scrambled to his feet as well and closed the distance between himself and Derrick before turning to see Lilly disappearing into the distance.

"What are you waiting for? Shoot the bitch!"

Derrick frowned as he looked over at his livid friend. "No, she let you go so there's no reason to hurt her." Vincent almost growled as he heard that. Derrick might have been a good guy to have around in situations like this, what with his size and strength, but he was too much of a damn good guy for his own good. Grabbing the gun off of him before he could react, Vincent turned to face after the quickly retreating form of his attacker and fire a volley of shots after her through the trees.

Vincent handed the weapon back to Derrick with a smug smile on his face and ran after her into the forest, disappearing from sight. It was not long before he could see she had apparently been hit by the shots. The two bullet holes he saw in the back of her shirt had not been enough to kill her, however, and she had started to move a little. He walked over to her prone form and stepped onto her wrist before bending down and grabbing the baton from her hand, noticing her breathing was very difficult and laboured. Smiling, Vincent knelt down and flipped the small girl onto her back.

"Now then, what was it you were saying earlier about 'not being an easy target'? I think we need to do something to fix that attitude of yours."

It was a few minutes before Vincent reappeared with a wide smile on his face. Derrick had been about to go after him in case Lilly had managed to best him again, but judging from the way Vincent looked now he guessed that was not the case. Looking down, Derrick noticed Vincent now wore Lilly's set of brass knuckles on his hands and carried an extra pack. It was clear what had happened to the girl even if he was not privy to the details.

Vincent walked back over to Derrick, whom had not moved an inch since Vincent had handed the gun back to him and wore an expression somewhere between disappointed and disapproving. Frowning, Vincent threw Lilly's pack at him, which he caught before grabbing his own from the ground where he had fallen. "Don't look so offended. She attacked me, remember? Who's to say she wouldn't do it to the next person she found too? And they might not have been so lucky. Better to finish her off now before she could hurt someone." Vincent threw his pack over his shoulder and gave one last look towards Lilly's body before turning and walking past Derrick. "Come on, let's get out of here."

"Did you just hear a gunshot?"

"….I think so. Sounded kind of far away though, so it's not like we have to worry about whoever it was. Come on, I can see the building up ahead."

He turned his head to face his current travelling partner, following the line of her sledge hammer to see what exactly she was pointing it at. When he followed its path with his eyes, Steven Ambrose, a.k.a. B3, could indeed spot their destination rising up through the trees ahead of them. After meeting up back at the Barracks, under circumstances he would rather not have to think about again, Cassandra and himself had decided to try their luck at the Armoury and perhaps find something they could use.

"Hey, the door's open. Do you think someone's been here before?"

"Maybe... or maybe someone just forgot to close the door on their way out"

Or rather, Cassandra decided to go to the Armoury and Steven just agreed with her. To be honest, it didn't matter where they went as long as he could stay close to her. After all, as soon as they got somewhere secluded enough- and the inside of the armoury should suffice for that- he was going to kill her. They reached the building and Cassandra leaned forward, peering through the open door at the room beyond.

"Doesn't look like anyone's home. I'll go in first. Can I trust you not to run away if you get scared?"

Not giving him time to answer, Cassandra stepped through the door and into the barracks. Repressing the urge to say something that would ruin things before he could make his move, Steven followed after her. Upon entering, he saw the armoury was as deserted as Cassandra had suspected and just as barren. Looked like they were not going to be able to salvage anything from this place after all, unless the other rooms offered something more.

On the plus side, it looked like Steven would be adding a sledge hammer to his collection of weapons some time soon. For whatever reason, the armoury had no windows to illuminate the small room, only one singular, cracked light bulb above their heads. It was probably to make it harder for anyone to break into it by minimizing the number of entrances; after all, the kind of things an armoury usually contained are not what one wants anyone to have access to. Whatever the case, it meant neither Steven nor Cassandra could see very well in the dark conditions, especially having just come in from the bright, afternoon sun.

Still, the front room of the armoury was a little too exposed for Steven's liking and the aisles between the empty racks of weapons left too many different routes to the exit. He would need to find a way to lure Cassandra into one of the rooms deeper in the building, preferably in a way that would not arouse her suspicion.

"Looks like this place has been picked clean long ago. I think I'll go check the next room."

Or, he could just wait for her to go there herself. Smirking, he followed after her, the handle of the knife tucked into the back of his trousers poking him in the back as a reminder of its purpose. This room was almost as dark as the last, the only source of illumination being a series of light bulbs positioned in intervals down the length of the long room. "Looks like a firing range. I guess it makes sense to have it and the guns in the same place."

"Too bad they couldn't have left some behind for us." Cassandra walked forward, further away from the doorway, and leaned against a wall near one of the booths. She looked down the range at one of the paper targets at the other end and appeared to be in thought. "I've been thinking about this place. Doesn't it seem kind of… off?"

"What do you mean?" Quietly sneaking towards Cassandra's exposed back Steven slipped the knife from the back of his trousers into his hand. The wide, flat blade still shone under what little light there was even after being coated in blood earlier this very day.

"Well, I just mean…. I don't know. It just seems strange. Civilian buildings mixed in with military ones? You can't tell me that's normal. And everything just seems too small, there's no way that Barracks could house enough soldiers for a full-sized army base."

Steven hesitated for a moment as he heard this. To be fair, she did have a point- not that it mattered much. Yet if she was right, would it mean this was not a real military base? Whatever the case, it would not change their situation and it certainly would not help Cassandra in a few seconds. Taking his chance, Steven lunged forward and slashed with the knife. Luckily, or unluckily depending on which side you were on, at that exact moment Cassandra decided to take a step forward to get a closer look at the targets, meaning that the knife's blade only sliced through the skin of her shoulder and the strap of her pack.

The weighty object dropped from her shoulder and she fell forward into one of the booths, shocked from the sudden pain and loss of burden. She turned to face Steven, leaning back on the counter of the booth behind her while reaching over her shoulder to check for blood. She brought back a hand covered in the liquid as confirmation and glared at Steven with a fierce look, all but ignoring the knife in his hands covered with her own bodily fluids. "What the Hell are you doing?"

With her being boxed in on three sides, and with Steven blocking the last, Cassandra could not bring her dangerous sledge hammer to bear. Instead, she had to hold it down by her side. This fact bolstered Steven's confidence as he stepped closer to her, knife held up in one hand for her to see while his bat hung at his side in his other hand.

"What am I doing? I'm surviving. Or did you not realize that's what this game's about yet? It's a game where the smart, the strong, and the capable, like me, last longer than the gullible, naïve idiots such as yourself." The closer Steven got with the knife, the further Cassandra tried to shy away, but there was only so much room for her to move and eventually the knife was pressed flat against her throat, pinning her in place. If he was honest with himself, he would admit that he liked the fact she appeared to be afraid of him.

"I mean, did you actually think I could be trusted? Did you really think anyone could be trusted? No, in this game it's all about looking after number one. Too bad you didn't figure that out sooner." Turning around to face the rest of the room, Steven spotted what he was looking for, a security camera placed subtly in the top corner of the room. It was clearly far newer than the building itself, but the way it looked you really would not spot it unless you were looking for it. The way it was positioned allowed it see both the door and the booths where they stood now. "Do you see that camera up there, Cassie? I'm going to slit your throat in front of that camera and everyone is going to see you die because you were too much of an idiot to understand this game. You're going to die as an example to all the other bleeding hearts out there that still think this game can be ended by banding together. You'll…."

Steven's tirade was cut short as the solid, metal head of the sledge hammer was driven into his gut with more force than he would have imagined possible. "You really need to shut up right now." Steven stumbled backwards and Cassandra followed, swinging the hammer low with enough force to knock his legs out from under him without breaking them. His back hit the ground with a crash, the knife and bat clattering away from his grip. Almost immediately, he tried to get up again, but a quick jab to his chest with the hammer to knock him back down dissuaded him of that thought. "I can't believe you actually stopped to deliver a fucking _monologue_ of all things. Damn, you can really tell you're a drama student, can't you?"

Once she was sure he would not try moving again, Cassandra turned her back on him and walked over to retrieve her pack. She lifted it up by the cut strap before shaking her head and dropping it back to the ground.

Instead, she walked back over to Steven and grabbed the strap drawn across his chest while pressing him down against the floor with her foot. She dragged the pack off of his shoulders and swung it up onto her own before retreating backwards towards the door.

"Oh, and for the record? I never trusted you, not completely anyway. I hoped you would be trustworthy but I was always prepared to take you down if you weren't. I have to say though, I did get careless and you almost got me; if you hadn't stopped to make a speech you would have. This isn't an audition, the people watching those cameras don't care about you putting on a show. They just want to see you kill people. Too bad you didn't figure _that_ out sooner."

With that she was gone, disappearing out the door into the next room. A few seconds later, he heard that door close as well. For a few minutes he just lay there, still. Eventually, he felt the need to move again and slammed his fist onto the ground next to him repeatedly. How could he have messed that up? How? No, he knew how, she was right. Everything was set up perfectly and he had let it slip away because he got too confident.

Standing up and gathering his weapons and pack, he began walking towards the door when he heard a faint mechanical whirring sound to his side. Turning to face the corner of the room, he saw the camera panning around to focus in on him as he crossed to the door. Dropping the pack and knife, he gripped the baseball bat in both hands and advanced on the small machine.

"Were you watching that? Did you get some good footage, huh? I'm done playing your fucking game. I'm not doing this to go home anymore. I'm going to go after that bitch and tear her apart. If anyone else gets in my path along the way then fine, I'll kill them too!" Lifting his arms up, he held the bat as if he were expecting a pitch. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have somewhere I need to be."

The last thing the camera saw before the static was the wooden bat accelerating towards its lens.


	19. Sixteenth Hour 36 Student Remaining

Sixteenth Hour – 36 Remaining

"Merde."

She must have done something terrible in a past life, that was the only way to explain her absolutely abysmal luck. She had not been at the school more than a couple of months when she was taken; damn foreign exchange program, any other time of the year and she would not have even been in the country to be picked. What were the chances that out of all the schools that could have been picked it had to be the one she was assigned to that was taken?

She did not deserve to be here, she had not done anything wrong in her life. Well, at least not anything worth this, and if it was an attack against America, or something to do with their government, why was she being involved in it? She did not deserve to be here. It was all because of them, the people who made this game, the people from her school who told her this student exchange would be a good idea and the other students from the school. They must have done something to warrant being picked; it could not just be random. They did something to get picked and they dragged her down with them.

G7, a.k.a. Gabrielle Rousseau, released a sigh as she stopped and looked at the area around her. She had been walking for hours and still had not found the end to this forsaken forest. Either this place went on forever or she simply had the bad luck to accidentally swerve around every building on this island. Sighing again, she chose a random direction to try her luck in and began walking again.

She was going to get out though, not any of them. She was going to be the one to earn the ticket home, her real home back in France, and never come back to America again. She deserved to go home more than them, anyway. Home, she was sure most of them would be missing home right about now, lamenting the fact they were taken away without warning, but Gabrielle had no sympathy for them. She had been missing home for months now, had already been made to leave her comfort behind and go to a new city, a new country where she knew nobody.

She had already made her first step on the way out of here anyway; she had killed that stupid boy earlier, the one that claimed to have a way off the island that did not require them to kill anyone. As if there could really be such a thing, did he not realize the people who put them here probably spent months and months planning this whole "game" out; as if they would really leave any possible room for escape. He was probably just trying to trick her so he could kill her later anyway, not that it mattered now. Even if there was another way, why would she even want to find it when she could just kill her way out?

Before she could do that though, she needed to find her way out of this damn forest and find someone, someplace or something that could help her. The faint sound of running water further on piqued her interest and she followed it to the source. A small pond, or were they called brooks, being supplied by a short waterfall and siphoned off by a thin, trickling stream stood before her. Behind the pond, and providing the "fall" part of the water fall, was a tall cliff, maybe fifteen to twenty feet high in places and stretching into the distance on either side.

Gabrielle began walking away from the pond, following the cliff along its length and searching for where it ended or at least a spot where it was short enough that someone like her might be able to climb to the top.

"Ow, fuck..."

A few loose stones rolled down the surface of the cliff to the ground ahead of her as she heard a voice call out softly, turning her head up to investigate Gabrielle could see the source of both. High upon the cliff face, perhaps ten feet above her head and still only two-thirds of the way up was another girl from the bus; or at least she assumed it was a girl from the voice and the loosely tied ponytail she had pulled her medium brown hair into. The girl's brown jacket and other clothing let her blend into the rock face almost perfectly, which was probably why Gabrielle had not spotted her until now.

Drawing her gun, the large Desert Eagle weighing heavily in her hand, Gabrielle walked over until she was standing directly underneath the other girl and looking up at her. Maybe if she was lucky the girl would fall and save her the trouble of having to kill her herself. If not, well, that was what the gun was for. Yet before that she wanted to find out just what the girl was doing.

"Hello?"

The girl had been reaching for the next handhold when Gabrielle called out and released an undignified scream when she heard her, slipping down and only managing to hold on with one hand. She was able to grab another hold with her free hand before pulling her dangling feet back onto the rock. Letting out a relieved sigh that Gabrielle heard even from down where she stood the girl turned around carefully to face her.

"Damn it girl, don't scare me like that. I almost fell!"

The other girl began climbing carefully back down until she must have thought she was low enough and jumped off, landing heavily in front of Gabrielle. She rose up to her full height, standing a couple inches taller than Gabrielle herself, before turning and walking back in the direction of the pond. A little unhappy with being ignored, Gabrielle placed her pistol back in her pocket, away from sight, and followed after her, catching up just as they both reached the water's edge. The other girl crouched down and brought some water to her mouth with her cupped hands while Gabrielle waited until she would be able to answer again.

"What were you doing up there?"

"What do you think? I was climbing up to the top to get a better look around this place."

"Isn't that kind of dangerous? Why would you try something like that?"

"It's only dangerous if you don't know what you're doing. It's no problem for someone like me who knows what they're doing."

At this point Gabrielle might have muttered something about "arrogance getting you into situations you could not handle," but if she did thankfully the other girl did not hear it. Biting back any other sarcastic or outright mean things she could have said, Gabrielle instead chose to keep the conversation going a bit longer. Really, the French girl should have just killed her then and there, but she had to admit she was curious about this other girl and wanted to keep asking questions. The least she could do was discover her name before killing her.

"And how is it that you know what you are doing? From what I understand, rock climbing isn't exactly common knowledge."

The other girl shrugged before standing back up and adjusting the pack on her shoulder. "I'm kind of a survivalist, you know? I used to go camping a lot with my dad and family and I learned about a lot of stuff on my own about how to survive in the wild. Rock climbing is just the start of it. I'm Andrea by the way, Andrea Wilson."

The girl was talking a little too quickly for Gabrielle to have caught everything, but she got the most important things, including her name. "I'm Gabrielle."

"Nice name. Your accent though, you're not from around here are you?" Catching what she just said, Andrea shook her head before correcting herself. "Well…. you know what I mean."

"No, I'm from France. I'm an exchange student."

"Really? Didn't know we had one. So where are you heading, anyway?"

To be honest, Gabrielle was starting to regret talking to this girl. She was talking so quickly, answering as soon as the words were out of Gabrielle's mouth, that it was starting to give her a headache. Plus, the cheerful attitude was not helping too much, either. "I don't know. I'm just walking around, hoping to find a building to rest in for a while."

"See, that's exactly what you shouldn't do. The way I see it, everybody's going to be doing the same thing. Finding buildings, barricading themselves in, getting killed once a visitor comes along. That's why I'm staying out here in the forest. Nobody could find me here if I didn't want them to. You should stay with me, I could keep us safe."

It took a tremendous amount of effort on Gabrielle's part not to laugh at Andrea as she said this. It was very presumptuous of the other girl to think she was capable of protecting herself, let alone anyone else, just because she knew how to pitch a tent or tie a knot or whatever. Unless she had something to back up these claims, like a good weapon maybe? Best to ask and see what she was dealing with.

"But what about the other students, the ones who are playing the game? What are we going to do about them? Did you get a good weapon with your pack?"

"Not really. I got a bunch of little firecrackers which could come in handy I suppose. But don't worry about the other people here. If everything goes properly they won't even find us. Don't worry, I have everything worked out."

This time Gabrielle could not help the little smirk that crossed her face as she heard what was said; hopefully Andrea would just think she was happy with this plan. She was going to hide? That was her big plan for surviving? Word it whatever way you wanted but that was all this was, hiding away and hoping they all killed each other and not you. Not to mention all she had to defend herself with was a bunch of little fireworks. It would almost be too easy when the time came.

Yet that would happen later, for now Gabrielle decided she would humour Andrea a little longer. The way the other girl kept talking about how she had things worked out and how everything was taken care of, she could not help but wonder if perhaps she had something more to offer than what she had seen so far. Maybe she had a small camp set up somewhere, some refuge from the game that Gabrielle should try and find out about.

"Come on, just follow me and I'll show you what I mean." Andrea must have interpreted Gabrielle's prolonged silence as scepticism, as before the girl knew it she was being led along back in the direction they had just come to where Gabrielle first saw the other girl. In fact, she could have sworn the spot where the other girl chose to stop was the exact same place where she had caught her trying to climb the cliff earlier. A thought hit her suddenly, the exchange student was dreading what the taller girl was going to say before she even said it.

"I'm afraid we're going to have to go up here. There is no other way to get to where I'm planning on going, except to walk all the way around, but that'll take an hour at least, probably more." Before Gabrielle could even protest and say perhaps she would prefer the long way, Andrea was already putting her hands to the wall and climbing up. "It's not that hard, just keep putting one hand above the other, watch where you put your feet and take it slow. Oh, and don't look down."

For a while, Gabrielle just stared at the brown wall in front of her, wondering if it was really worth it to risk her health climbing up this cliff for.… well, she did not even know what she was getting out of this, did she? Sighing, she bit the bullet and stepped forward, placing her hands on the rock and gripping onto whatever she could before pulling herself up. She carefully positioned her feet below her; only stepping onto those holds she knew could support her, before cautiously reaching out with her hand to the next rock she could see. It was slow going, very slow going, and after a few minutes she hazarded a look down and saw that for all her effort she had managed to climb a mighty…. five feet above the ground.

"Hey, are you okay down there?" Turning her head upwards, Gabrielle could see Andrea on the wall above her, far higher than she was and hanging on with only one hand to get a better look straight down at her. "Do you want me to come down and help you?"

Shaking her head to prevent any of the things she was thinking right now from slipping out when she spoke, Gabrielle only repeated the motion in answer before placing her foot on the next hold and pulling herself up. Or at least she would have had it not crumbled away beneath her. With a scream she was not exactly proud of she fell the small distance she had managed to climb and landed heavily on her backside. Wincing, she stood and again looked up at Andrea; the more experienced girl was now almost all the way to the top, with only a few feet left to go, and was apparently too high to have heard her fall as she had yet to turn around and check on her.

"Damn it, whatever she has up there is not worth this." With a growl, Gabrielle pulled the large Desert Eagle out of her pocket and, after taking several steps backwards, took aim at the girl above her. She pulled the trigger just as Andrea placed a hand on the top of the cliff, the well aimed bullet going wide and striking the cliff next to her, startling her. Gabrielle could hear her cry out even from this distance. Andrea's hands slipped from the rocks and her attacker could see her scrambling to find purchase as she slipped, falling the twenty feet to the bottom and landing flat on her back in a far more painful fashion than Gabrielle had.

Walking over to Andrea's unmoving form, Gabrielle recoiled slightly upon seeing that the neck had been twisted to an unnatural angle during the landing, which was most likely what killed her. Hopefully, anyone who came by would think she had just been careless and fallen rather than being "pushed" as it were. Shaking this image from her head and being careful not to look at her too closely again, Gabrielle walked over and pulled the pack from underneath Andrea's body. She was not going to leave the extra supplies behind this time, the fact that she was running out of water outweighing the fact she would now have to carry more weight. Come to think of it, she had kept the empty bottles in her pack rather than throwing them away and there was a fairly clean source of water not too far away.

Walking away from the grisly scene, Gabrielle headed back in the direction of the pond, following the by now quite familiar route along the cliff wall in order to replenish her water supply. Perhaps Andrea was right; a little survival knowledge could come in handy sometimes.

Even though his leg hurt like hell, even though he had a bloody knife in his pocket, even though he knew he most likely would not survive the day let alone the next two or three, he had to admit the view from up here was kind of impressive. If it was not for the fact the peaceful vista and serene sound of waves crashing was occasionally interrupted by light pops of gunfire, Adrian Starr, a.k.a. B21, could almost mistake this island for someplace pleasant.

The game, the program, whatever they were calling it. No matter where he went on the island it was a constant weight on his mind; the possibility he could die at any second, by anyone's hand, or that he might need to kill someone himself, it disturbed him. If his count was right, then the names from the last announcement brought the total of those killed up to seven. Seven in twelve hours, with an undetermined amount since then, was not all that bad actually when he thought about it; roughly one kill every two hours was less than he would have expected if he was honest with himself. Although the fact people were not dropping like flies as he expected was something to be celebrated, not questioned.

Thinking of the last announcement, Adrian wondered if the person who was said to have been killed at the Barracks was attacked by the same person who had attacked him. Had his assailant stuck around after driving him out, waiting for the next person to show up so he could get the drop on them? Were there really people here that were that determined to kill people that they would do something that.… organized? It was much better thought out than his own reasons for going to that place he had to admit; his idea upon reaching the Barracks was simply to try and get some rest before heading out onto the island in order to have an edge over his more worn down adversaries. Of course, that backfired horribly on him, and now he was more tired than he had ever been in his life and had a gash on his leg that still periodically dripped blood onto the metal floor below him. Was the blood loss the reason he was so tired? Possibly. He should probably do something about that, but he really did not want to start messing around with the stuff in the first aid kit without knowing what he was doing. He did not want to start self-medicating only to accidentally give himself an overdose or something. No, the hastily applied bandages he had done himself would have to suffice for now.

Just as Adrian was thinking that it was about time he changed those bandages, he was interrupted as he caught a faint rumbling sound in his ears. It kind of sounded like distant thunder, but the only clouds he could see were far away on the horizon and the sound was too constant to simply be that. The rumble grew louder and deeper the longer it went on, causing even more confusion as to what was causing it, until the answer was given to him as a large truck, an old army one from the look of it, came into view on the road leading up to the lighthouse.

The truck stopped down by the cottage at the bottom of the path that connected the lighthouse building to the rest of the island and the door opened, the occupant stepping out before closing it again. The person just stood there for a second as their eyes began climbing up the side of the tower before reaching the balcony where he stood and locking onto him. Adrian looked back at the figure for a few seconds before letting out a dejected sigh and walking back towards the hatch that led into the lighthouse interior; he new what was coming next and he would rather not fight it.

Progress was slow with his injured leg and by the time he had made it down the stairs and out of the front door the truck's driver had left his vehicle's side and had walked up the path to meet him. Not wanting to fight it and make this anymore painful than it needed to be, Adrian walked over to the figure and addressed them.

"Hey Gerald. I suppose this has been a long time coming, hasn't it?"

For how long he had spent on the island, Gerald looked to be in remarkably good shape. There was not a speck of blood on his clothing, no injuries could be seen and he was not even tired thanks to the fact he had been driving- not walking- everywhere. Meanwhile, Adrian, standing there with his injured leg and his breathing heavy after the long walk down the lighthouse, was doing decidedly worse. "We've had our differences if that's what you mean, but I wouldn't go so far as to say this was inevitable. Then again I'd be lying if I said I wasn't glad things turned out this way."

"Can't say I share your enthusiasm. Is there anyway we could not do this?"

"Afraid not, that's just the way this game works; survival of the fittest and all that. You must have known that you'd have to do this at some point anyway, right? Even if it wasn't me you were fighting, you'd be faced with somebody who wanted you dead. Why delay it when we could settle this right now?"

Two reasons; first, Adrian was fairly sure that, if they fought, out of the two of them it would not be Gerald who was dead by the end of it. And second… well, he just did not feel like it. "Because I don't want to fight you Gerald. I don't want to fight anyone, don't want to hurt them, kill them. I don't have that in me."

Adrian was almost offended when Gerald just laughed out loud upon hearing that, but really he could not blame the guy, he did have a reputation back in school and the two had a kind of history together. "Forgive me if I think that's bullshit. You, the big, bad jock, doesn't have it in him to play this game?" At this point, Gerald's grin turned sour, angling downwards into more of a grimace. "It's not like you're a stranger to fighting, or causing pain now is it? You and your two accomplices from the team did plenty of that back in school."

The door to the boys' locker room swung open with a creak as Gerald pushed it open and entered. The sound of his footsteps echoed off the tiled walls and metal lockers as he passed the rows of benches and lockers until he reached the one he was looking for and turned into it. It was supposed to be his gym class at the moment but he had decided as he usually did to skip it this time, leaving him completely alone. He only came back because he had foolishly forgotten something in his locker that he did not want to have to part with for too long.

Or at least, he was supposed to be completely alone, which did not explain the faint sounds of movement and shushing he heard coming from the end row of lockers in the room when he went to open his own locker. Gerald was only three rows down from the back wall of the locker room so it was no trouble for him to go and investigate the noise. Peering around the edge into the last row he saw what had been causing the disturbance; four figures stood at the opposite end of the row, two of which were looking around the other end of the row towards the other end of the room while the third held the smaller fourth against the wall. None of them had noticed him yet. It did not take long for Gerald to identify them as the three thugs from the football team; Vincent, Adrian and Derrick, along with their usual victim, William White.

"Do you see anyone?"

"No, maybe they left?"

"Not good enough, we don't want anyone catching us. Someone should go check."

"Well you do it then."

Gerald stepped out from around the corner fully and stood in the middle of the row at the end. He waited a few seconds for them to notice him but when it appeared they would not anytime soon he just rolled his eyes and walked down the row to where they were standing. He grabbed the closet one, Adrian, by the back of his collar and pulled him backwards, throwing him backwards so that he spilled to the floor. The other three turned to face him, while the one holding William in place dropped their arm and allowed him to break away and quickly run from them. A few seconds later they heard the door being thrown open and the hurried footsteps faded away completely.

"Little guy's pretty quick when he wants to be."

Adrian was the first to address him. "What do you want Gerald? We weren't doing anything."

"Sure looked like it. Why don't you leave the kid alone, give him a break once in a while?"

"Aww, come on. We were just having some fun." This time it was Vincent who spoke, leaning against one of the lockers with his arms crossed. Gerald had never particularly liked Vincent. Even though he could not say that he really cared for any of this small group, Vincent was the only one who really got to him. It probably had something to do with his arrogant attitude. "Maybe you should just stay out of our business."

"Normally I'd want nothing to do with _your_ business, but when it happens right in front of me it becomes my business as well"

This seemed to evoke a different response from Vincent than Gerald was expecting; rather than get annoyed he only smiled instead, a sickeningly sweet smile that did anything but make him seem friendly. "Well let's just make sure it doesn't become anyone else's business as well. No reason not to keep this between just us"

Gerald had to let out a little laugh at that, were these three actually worried that he would tell a teacher about this? He wasn't exactly on the best terms with the faculty himself after all. "Sure whatever, doesn't bother me. But if I ever see you doing something like this again, I'll make it my business again"

Gerald moved to leave, trying to walk past both Vincent and Derrick rather than turn his back to them, except Vincent stepped into his path and blocked him. "It's already your business, you can't take that back and there's no getting out now. Hope it was worth it"

"You never left me alone after that, did you? You three haunted me like a fucking plague, taking whatever chances you could to screw me over. And now you think I'll be satisfied with just 'I don't have it in me'?"

"….you're right, I'll admit I did some things that I'm not exactly proud of, times when things went too far to just be simple bullying anymore. But that doesn't mean I want to be a killer. Damn it, that was just stupid high school stuff, this is the real fucking deal. There's a big difference."

It had almost always been Vincent, anyway. He was not trying to pass the blame onto someone else, he was still plenty guilty himself, but when he said there were times things went too far he meant that Vincent took it too far. To be honest, there were times when even he was afraid of his friend's sadistic streak.

"So you're saying that it doesn't count? All those times you and your friends hurt people, all those times you jumped me just because I got in your way once? That it doesn't matter because it was just 'stupid high school stuff'?"

"No, no, maybe. All I'm saying is all that stuff doesn't seem to matter now. To be honest, the guys and I were talking about using this trip as one last chance to teach you a lesson, but now it all seems kind of pointless. But whatever problems we had seem kind of insignificant now, don't you think? Like I said, I don't have it in me to fight you for real, for these stakes. I don't want to kill you or anyone else."

"Too bad, because like _I_ said, we're going to settle this right now. No sense in delaying it." Gerald took a few steps back after this, giving them both some room to move in the area just outside the lighthouse, before throwing his pack down onto the ground and taking a fighting stance. His hands balled into fists in front of him and his feet positioned apart for balance. "Come on Adrian, don't make me wait. I saw that cut on your leg and I don't want to take advantage so I'm giving you the first shot. Come on!"

"That's surprisingly noble of you."

"I just don't want to attack someone when they're unprepared. Doesn't seem fair."

Adrian could not help but chuckle a little at that despite the desperate situation, before the sombre mood brought him back down. Releasing a breath, he balled up his fists and approached Gerald, slowly walking towards the other boy before speeding up and throwing a punch to close the distance between them. However, with his injured leg the attack was both slow and a little clumsy, allowing Gerald to easily avoid it by simply turning his torso to the side and leaning backwards. To compliment the move Gerald also lifted his leg up swiftly and slammed his knee into Adrian's gut as he passed him by, stopping the injured boy in his tracks with a violent expulsion of air as the wind was knocked clean from his lungs. As he doubled over, Gerald aggressively grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked him forward, almost causing him to stumble over his feet.

Regaining his balance, the jock stood up and turned around to see Gerald still standing in the same spot he had started the fight in, albeit facing the opposite direction and waiting for him to make the next charge. Moving more carefully now, Adrian stepped forward and swung another closed fist at his opponent, careful not to put too much weight behind it this time like before. Again, Gerald was able to easily duck out of the way of the punch, doing the same for the second by ducking the other way before the third punch finally connected with his chest. He was pushed back slightly, but recovered quickly and threw a counter-punch that almost knocked Adrian off his feet as it collided solidly with his head.

Staggering back, Adrian surprised Gerald by charging forward before he expected him to recover and was able to grab the other boy around the waist and drag him down to the ground. Sitting astride the other boy, Adrian was able to throw a few successful punches at his head and chest area. Most were blocked, but those that were not took their toll on the recipient. Through his defence, Gerald was able to bring a knee up between his and Adrian's bodies and pushed the boy off of him, rolling him onto the ground next to him before quickly returning to his feet and putting some distance between the two of them.

"Not bad, especially for someone as injured as you, but you know you can't win this. Why don't you use the weapon that I know you have and make this a little more interesting?"

"What? Why are you telling me to do that? Do you want to lose?"

"Same reason I let you go first. I want a fair fight, and so far this isn't very fair. Don't worry, if it gets too much for me I'll use my weapon as well."

Sceptical, but not one to look a gift horse in the mouth as it were, Adrian reached into his jean pocket and pulled out the combat knife, taking a solid grip on the handle and holding the blade out in Gerald's direction. Seemingly unbothered by the lethal weapon now being used against him, Gerald just stood there and again waited for Adrian to make the first move. Not wanting to disappoint, Adrian closed the distance between the two and stabbed out with the knife at the other boy who dodged the edged weapon by bending forward and pulling his midriff back and away from the knife tip. Adrian then slashed diagonally at Gerald, first coming from the right, then the left, both slashes again being dodged by the surprisingly agile boy.

Getting fed up, Adrian flipped the knife over in his hand so that it pointed the opposite direction and stabbed downwards at the other boy with all of his strength. Gerald caught the attempt by the wrist and held Adrian's arm back with one hand, the knife tip hovering over its target at the juncture between Gerald's neck and shoulder. Despite his injuries, the jock was still slightly stronger in the upper body than the other boy and slowly began pushing his hand, and therefore the knife, closer toward its goal.

For the first time during the fight, things seemed to be going more Adrian's way and the look on Gerald's face said he knew this too, which was why he then reached into his own pocket and pulled out a small, black box Adrian did not immediately recognize. He soon did, however, when the thing crackled to life and electricity began to arc between the two metal prongs that stuck out from the end. As Gerald jabbed the device at Adrian's own neck he quickly reacted and managed to catch Gerald's wrist as well, creating a weird situation where both boys attempted to overpower the other from two fronts or else suffer for it.

The two were locked in a stalemate for some time, neither managing to push too far forward on one front without giving ground on the other and having to reverse it again, until something happened to break the deadlock. Noticing Adrian was balancing most of his weight on his good leg, Gerald pushed the struggle sideways so as to force him to put more weight onto his injury, causing the other boy to wince, before kicking out harshly at the still bleeding gash. As expected, Adrian buckled immediately, all effort behind both of his arms falling as he did and the hand holding the Taser shooting forward and touching the metal prongs to his exposed neck.

The effect was similarly immediate, the voltage being released into his body and causing his muscles to spasm out of control as he hit the floor unable to move. As the helpless boy lay on the floor, Gerald calmly turned off the Taser and reached down to pull the knife away from his clenching hand.

"I realize that might have seemed a little underhanded, and to be fair it was, but you should have expected me to go for such an obvious weakness. Don't worry though, I'll make it quick. I was planning on dragging it out a little but you were right. Those old differences do seem a little unimportant compared to what's going on now."

Kneeling down beside the paralysed student, Gerald moved the knife into his hand and pressed it tip first into Adrian's neck, the sharp point easily piercing the skin and into the vital arteries within. Adrian bled out in seconds, his blood pooling quickly on the ground beneath and around him. Gerald stood and walked over to collect both their packs before heading back to the truck. He threw both packs onto the passenger seat and climbed inside before closing the door and starting up the engine again.

"One down."


	20. Seventeenth Hour 34 Students Remaining

Seventeenth Hour – 34 Remaining

She raised the weapon, the sub machine gun feeling bulky and heavy in her hands, but she handled it fairly well for a beginner. She aimed down the sights, lining the iron notches up with her target so she knew her bullets would hit their mark. Exhaling, she depressed the trigger with her finger slowly, making certain to follow that cliché piece of advice she had seen in countless movies: squeezing the trigger rather than pulling it. The gun clicked as nothing happened and a smile crossed Arianna Vanderson's, a.k.a. G2's, face.

The safety had worked, she was not sure if she had done it right just from reading the manuals but now she could walk around with the Uzi hanging around her neck without worrying about it going off on its own. Of course, that was only part of the reason the gun had stayed securely in her pack until now. To be honest, the announcements had her quite scared; the thought somebody out there was killing, that anybody she met might try to do the same? It had her terrified, so much so that she found herself jumping at any sudden and loud noises like they were gunshots, even though some of them were. She just did not want to carry around a live weapon and accidentally riddle someone full of bullets because they caught her by surprise. Yet now that she had the safety working, after spending far too long reading the manual she might add, she could carry it around and not worry about that. The safety was on and it was never coming off, she would never use it if she could help it.

Was that what had been happening to everyone else so far? Were they all just so scared of what everyone else _might_ do to them they just lost their heads and decided to kill them first? If that were the case, they probably heard the announcements like she had and started freaking out. She would not allow that to happen to herself as well, though. Sure, she was scared; who would not be in a situation like this? However, she would keep her head, keep calm and try not to shoot at anyone if they scared her. If they were already nervous, then doing something like that would only make things worse, or at least rather awkward. No, she would make sure she gave everyone she met the benefit of a doubt.

With a great sense of thematic timing, a shot rang out from within the trees to Arianna's right, a bullet whizzing past and embedding itself within the bark of another tree somewhere behind her. She spun around to face where she thought she heard the shot come from just in time to see something rushing towards her face. Stars erupted in her vision and pain flared throughout her skull as something solid collided with her head. She lost all perspective as to where she was for a second, other than the fact she felt her back hit something, presumably the floor. She heard the sound of rapid footsteps leading away from her and managed to get back up a second later and look around, only to see nothing.

Now thoroughly worried, she grabbed the gun that hung by the strap on her shoulder and held it in front of her, considering turning the safety off just in case but deciding against it. She would not make rash decisions simply because she was scared; she said she would not, so she will not. Instead, she lowered the gun to point it at the ground and slowly looked into the trees, not seeing anybody but knowing her attacker had not left just yet.

"Hello? Who's there? Don't worry; I'm not going to hurt you. You don't have to be afraid. You don't have to do this."

There was nothing but silence for a few seconds afterwards and for a brief moment Arianna was able to delude herself into thinking she had actually managed to convince the person to give up. Several shots rang out, peppering the ground around her and one of the bullets actually hit the pack hanging off her back, barely missing her torso as it did so. This was the last straw for Arianna, who finally gave up with the pacifist approached and flicked off the safety on her Uzi.

She raised the gun and depressed the trigger, holding it down to send a spray of bullets into the trees where the shots originated from. The foliage seemed to disappear under the assault, bark shedding from tree trunks and branches falling as their connections to the trees were severed. It was only a couple of seconds later when she released the trigger, though it felt like longer, and she saw the damage was far less extensive than she had imagined. Yet she still felt a huge surge of power to know she was capable of something like this.

A few more seconds of silence and the awe turned to fear as she thought she might have just done the thing she promised she never would: killed somebody. These worries were put to rest, however, as she heard the now familiar patter of footsteps rushing in behind her. She spun around again just in time to get hit, this time in the shoulder which, while still painful, did not knock her over. She turned around to follow them with her eyes as they passed, raising the gun again and firing after them as they tried to disappear into the forest again. One of the trees they passed had the bark stripped from its trunk as the bullets wore away at it but the person remained unharmed.

The gun clicked empty and Arianna cursed as she pressed a button on the side of the guns body to release the magazine while simultaneously retrieving another one from her pack with her free hand. She had left her pack half open when she put it on her back earlier and had practiced getting things out of it one handed for conveniences sake; she never expected to have to use it this way, though. She pushed the magazine into the bottom of the guns handle until it clicked and pulled back the slide to load the first round.

As if on cue, the footsteps started up again, coming from somewhere behind Arianna. She spun around quickly, her pack and hair whipping out behind her as she turned to face a startled attacker with a gun in her hands, which she then introduced to his forehead. The person hit the ground from the impact and before they had a chance to get back up, Arianna dove at them, jumping on top of them and hitting them a couple more times for good measure to ensure they would not be getting up any time soon.

Once she was certain he was unconscious, she sat back, still on top of him, and got her first decent look at his face. It was kind of difficult to see through the blood - she winced to realize she had just broken the guys nose – but the face was still one she recognized quite well; Ian Hayes, a.k.a. B18, lay comatose beneath her.

Adding a face to things made the whole situation far more real. Before, when it was some random assailant attacking her so it was easy to just forget they were a person and simply retaliate, but this was someone she knew and she had hit him, she had _shot_ at him. Panicking, she quickly climbed off him and stood, vaguely worried about his lack of movement but knowing she had not hit him nearly hard enough to kill…. she hoped. Either way, she needed to get out of there, before he woke up or somebody found her with the body.

She already had all of her stuff- her gun and the pack- on her person so she quickly turned away from the unconscious boy and started walking. The further she went, the more she started to kick herself; she had panicked and attacked someone the same way she said she _would not_ do. Ian's sudden attack had frightened her so much that she completely forgot all she said about not making rash decisions and not falling into the same traps as everyone else.

She placed her thumb against the slightly warm metal of the Uzi, the excessive firing having heated it up a little, resting it just above the switch that would turn the safety back on. She did not really trust herself with it off at the moment, she was still breathing kind of hard and her heart continued to beat rapidly from firing it before. She knew in her state it would be too easy to fire off a barrage at someone again.

Then again, perhaps she needed to rethink her stance on things a bit. Despite her believing earlier that the people playing the game were probably all motivated by fear, Ian did not exactly seem all that afraid. Arianna doubted he would have attacked her in quite the way he had if he was doing it solely out of fear, it seemed too organized. The only reason she had survived at all was because she had broken her own rules about firing her gun. Well, that and Ian's poor aiming skills.

With that in mind, she removed her thumb from the safety switch and simply let the Uzi hang in front of her by the strap. She was opening up to the idea that the students here were not all "victims" of the game like she thought and it was forcing her to reconsider all the deaths she had heard about over the announcements. Still, she was not going to make any snap judgments, though she wanted to be able to act on those decisions as soon as they were made.

_'Climbing through windows always seemed so much easier in the movies...'_ was the primary thought going through G5, a.k.a. Sophie Hall's head as she tried to pull herself through the half-open window of a building without dropping straight onto her head on the other side. She hefted herself the rest of the way through, pressing her hands against the floor to stop her fall and landing on her knees instead. She stood and looked around, finding herself in the dining room of one of the abandoned houses in the Residential District of the island.

The room was quite large but sparsely furnished, containing only an average-sized dining room table large enough to seat six, but strangely, no chairs, although the pile of kindling in one of the corners may have once been one. There were no pictures or ornaments on the walls, nothing littering the hardwood floors that gave any indication someone once lived there. Either the place had been completely cleared out before the game or the previous occupants had taken everything with them when they left; but in both cases, the question remained as to why they would leave the table.

That was unimportant though, Sophie had travelled here for supplies, not to contemplate the furniture. So as she moved into the kitchen and began searching through the cupboards, that was exactly what she hoped to find. She was looking for anything that might be useful; weapons, tools, anything electronic, even more food or water would be helpful later on. Sadly, it seemed the soldiers, or mercenaries, had done a good job clearing this place of anything valuable before the game. All the cabinets were empty, the fridge was empty; they had even assured the appliances were useless. A quick test of the oven quickly told her the gas had been cut and it appeared that there was no power, either. The taps still worked, but as the water came out tinged slightly brown she decided against refilling her bottles.

She migrated into the living room to try her luck there with similar success. Again, most of the furniture had been cleared out, the chairs and couch gone, yet the coffee table was still in place as was a small cabinet which, from the layout of the room, Sophie assumed once acted as a stand for the television. She walked to the front window a parted the curtains, examining the barren street outside and the other houses across from her. She could almost fool herself into thinking she was back home in suburbia, albeit one showing the signs of a couple decades of abandonment and neglect. She pulled away from the window and began pacing around the room again.

The lack of people outside was both a comfort and a worry. On the one hand, she really did not want to run into anybody that might be playing to win. While she was sure the six hand grenades in her pack would be useful in a fight, she really did not want to have to put that to the test. On the other hand, she worried about her friends, where they might be and if they were even still alive. She had not heard any of their names on the announcements yet, to her relief, but that could all change about half an hour from now. Eric, Matthew, Simon; once they were all together again they could start planning a way out of this mess.

Satisfied there was nothing more of value or interest downstairs, Sophie headed for the flight of stairs that would take her to the next floor where she could continue her search. She carefully ascended the wooden steps, well aware of what might happen if anyone was up there, wincing at every little creak or crack the weathered wood made to announce her presence. Nevertheless, she reached the top unchallenged and stepped onto the landing safely. Before her stretched a hallway with several doors leading off into other rooms, most of which presumably led to the bedrooms of those that lived here before, devoid of the furniture they once held. Hopefully though, they left enough behind to make the search worthwhile.

She walked forward and began checking each room one at a time, finding the first two to be as empty as she had guessed. They had most likely been bedrooms, judging from the size and lack of any other features; neither contained anything of interest, just a bunch of unused clothes hangers in the desolate wardrobes. Out of a desire to simply acquire something from this search, Sophie grabbed a couple of the seemingly useless wire hangers and placed them in her pack. She started to wonder if she should bother checking the other rooms on this floor, or even the other houses on the street, if this was all they were going to offer. Still, she might as well search the bathroom and see what was there.

Of course, even with all her friends together, even with all four of them working together, finding a way out of this game would still be next to impossible. There were several large obstacles in their way before they could think about leaving the island, and if they did their safety was not assured. The first problems they would have to overcome were the surveillance cameras placed all over the island, watching their every move. She had managed to spot a few of them herself, even in the woods stretching across most of the island. She would probably find a few more in this house if she went looking for them. It would be difficult to discuss and implement a plan of escape with Barret looking over their shoulder the entire way. The plan would most likely only last as long as Barret's amusement at their escape attempt before he simply pressed the button to detonate their collars.

She pushed open the door to the bathroom and entered, finding it to be as empty as every other room so far, with the exception of those features that were attached to the room itself, of course. Nonetheless, Sophie walked over and placed her pack down across the sink, opening the mirror to reveal the bathroom cabinet behind it, surprised to discover it to still contain some half-full bottles and bathroom utensils. Mentally shrugging to herself, she opened her pack and began transferring the contents of the cabinet into it on the off chance something there might prove to be useful later on.

She paused as she reached for the next item, a glass bottle of some decades old cologne or perfume the previous owners obviously did not want enough to take with them, and began thinking about what else they needed to get past as she mindlessly returned to the task at hand. Even if they got past the automated cameras – or did they have people controlling them? – they still needed to worry about the human element of the system, the soldiers or mercenaries Barret had with him during the briefing. No doubt they were for more than just show and played a part in ensuring the game ran smoothly and without incident. If the people who ran this game were smart, and she had no reason to believe they were not, then they would most likely have people positioned both on and off the island. Either in boats or perhaps simply waiting at the closest city on the mainland in order to make sure people that somehow managed to escape the island would not make it very far.

With a sigh, Sophie placed the last object in her pack and zipped it closed again. This train of thought was not exactly productive; all it was managing to do was convince her escape was impossible. It was hard to think otherwise when she went over all the different things that could, and probably would, go wrong. She closed the door to the cabinet and was suddenly greeted with her reflection in front of her again, though what caught her eye the most was the sight of the biggest obstacle they faced. She reached up and ran her fingers along the edge of her collar carefully, treating it with the gentleness the high explosives it contained deserved, feeling the smooth metal of its surface.

It was a worrying thought, the fact she had something so dangerous wrapped around her throat, a weapon to which someone else held the trigger; it made her feel powerless. It was nothing more than a simple, metal band- albeit one filled with explosives- the only standout feature being a section at the front which bulged out slightly and was fronted by a small, plastic panel. Most likely, this was where the main electronics of the device were located, the receivers and transmitters which beamed their locations back to Barret as well as allowing him to kill them at a moment's notice. They really were an effective means of ensuring everyone went along with what you wanted them to do. They would have worked even if they did not actually have any explosives in them; even if there had not been that little demonstration back at the mess hall - Sophie shuddered as she thought back to the fate of their poor teacher - nobody was going to try and pry them off to see for themselves if they really worked.

Even if they managed to avoid or disable the cameras, the collars would still give away where they were, would still transmit everything they said back to Barret and keep them corralled on the island as long as they wore them. They would need to remove them before they could even think of doing anything else.

When consciousness returned, the first thing that greeted him was pain; spiking, almost intolerable pain all throughout his skull. He wondered how much he must have drunk the night before to give him such a horrendous hangover, and to not remember anything much past the coach ride over, and to make him dream such strange things. Waking up in a room with everyone else surrounded by armed soldiers, their teacher strung up at the front and a guy calling himself Barret talking about some game where they had to kill each other. Then he pulled out a remote, pressed a button which set off a series of beeps and…. something happened, but from then up until now was all a blank.

Ian Hayes, a.k.a. B18, placed his hand against his forehead to try and push the pain away as he laid back and slowly let his senses return to him. He slowly began to realize whatever he was lying on was too hard and lumpy to be a bed or something man made. Reaching down with one hand he came up with a handful of grass and suddenly registered something was off. He snapped awake and shot up into a sitting position, clutching his head again as it started throbbing again in protest. Now all the blank spots in his memory were being filled in; from seeing his teacher get his head blown clean off his shoulders, to the time he left the mess hall and found his weapon- a .38 revolver- in his pack, to the time when he tried to attack that girl in the woods and ended up in his current predicament.

There was no sign of whomever it was he had attacked so he assumed he was fine for now, though he did not feel like relaxing just yet. He reached up to feel his face for any marks that might have been left and winced as his fingers found his broken nose; he would need to deal with that later but aside from that and a few sore spots he expected to find bruises on the next time he looked in the mirror, he was fine.

Onto the next concern; his pack was still underneath him though slightly off to the side so it was not digging straight into his back, strange he had not noticed the discomfort earlier. It did not seem like the person had bothered to scavenge his pack for supplies, which was lucky, the only thing unaccounted for was his revolver. He saw the weapon lying in the grass a couple feet away and crawled over to pick it up, the small gun fitting easily into his hand. He was very grateful the person had not taken this with them either, supplies were something you could always find more of, but lose your weapon and it could mean the difference between life and death. Although, considering the kind of firepower she had already, it made sense for her not to want this as well.

How many shots did he fire back then anyway, three or four? He dragged his pack over by the strap and opened it to retrieve the box of bullets inside, reloading the revolver in silence. One thing he also remembered from before he was knocked out, he was playing this game to win, he wanted to go home and he was willing to kill to do it. He snapped the full cylinder of the revolver back into place and spun it like he had seen people do in the movies; he was not going to let this setback stop him from getting home, he would just have to find someone else…. and make sure to stay away from girls with large guns.

Author's Notes: Sorry for the delay, I can't even remember the last time I posted but I know this had been the longest wait between chapters I've had. I had the chapter done for a while but actually getting around to getting it proof read and posted was more of a challenge; blame the hoildays for making me keep pushing it back in favour of doing nothing instead. Anyway, my normal season of exams is already over so there shouldn't be any more delays for a while, the next chapter is partially done and I hope to get back into the habit of writing and posting soon.


	21. Eighteenth Hour 34 Students Remaining

Eighteenth Hour – 34 Students Remaining

The former mess hall, which now acted as the control centre of Battle Royale, was once again a flurry of activity as the next announcement was due to be made. The majority of this was centred on the board that had been set up at the front of the room some hours ago as part of the betting pool that had been formed, the purpose of which was to alleviate the boredom or watching still scenery with the occasional animal or perhaps a student walking past. There had been several changes made in the past six hours; names needed to be crossed off, odds changed as less and less people occupied the island and weapons changed hands.

One of the technicians looked up from his computer screen, which was currently showing a particularly boring piece of empty forest, and saw a few people milling around in front of the board discussing who to place their bets on. He noticed one of the crossed off names in particular, Adrian written in block capitals and then crossed out in red ink, and smiled. Quite a few people had lost money in that particular fight, when Gerald managed to kill Adrian. The football player was by no means a favourite, not compared to some students with more violent tendencies, but his physical abilities made him a contender at least.

He could still remember the scene from a few hours ago. A large group had gathered around one of the computer screens, all work forgotten as they watched the fight unfold from the perspective of the camera positioned outside the first floor window of the lighthouse. The cheering and groans of disappointment filled the room as Gerald was finally able to overpower the other student and finish him off. The ones whom had bet on the jock slinking away, while several people went to go and place money on his killer. Now that he finally had a weapon capable of killing, more and more people had been placing bets on the student with the criminal record.

Gerald was not the only one to find a sudden rise in popularity in the last six hours, either. The foreign exchange student, Gabrielle, had gained a few fans since making her first kill of the game. The powerful gun in her possession and the fact she was not afraid to use it made her something of a potential dark horse contestant. Cassandra Evans, a.k.a. G21, was another such student. Her near effortless beating of former favourite Steven made her quite popular as well, the only flaw holding her back seeming to be her lack of a real weapon and no willingness to kill.

"Hmph, guess it just goes to show that you can't really predict how something like this will turn out. There's always something unexpected that could happen that will change everything- anything at all."

"How do you mean?" the technician whirled around in his seat to see none other than Barret standing directly behind him, staring at the board in the same manner he had been. Seeing the man behind the Battle Royale operation in person was not something that happened often, unless it was time for an announcement to be given. Barret could have left that to someone else, but he liked to give things a "personal touch" as he put it. It must have been closer to that time than he realized.

"Nothing sir, just thinking out loud."

"No, I want to hear this."

Releasing a nervous sigh, the technician came to the conclusion he would not get out of this easily. Their boss was stubborn and it was usually in the best interests of everyone in the room to do as he said. "I just meant that the situation on the island can change so suddenly that it's nearly impossible to predict a winner at this stage. I doubt we'll be able to even when we are down to the last two students."

"Hah, that's half the fun, isn't it?" Despite the lack of contact between his superior and the rest of the technicians, there was one thing they all knew about him: he loved his job. Everyone in the control room had a reason for being there, whether they agreed with what the game stood for, needed the money or were just plain forced into it. Barret was one of the few who drew satisfaction from it. He believed what they were doing was for a good cause, of course, but there was no doubting the reason he did this was because he enjoyed seeing these kids kill each other, to mess with their heads every six hours and drive them to even greater lengths to survive. "Don't you agree?" And that was one of the things that made the man so scary to helpless desk jockeys like him.

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious as to who's going to win this, but, I don't know. Doesn't that level of unpredictability worry you? What's to stop all these kids deciding they'd rather die together than kill each other and just have one big sit in while they wait out the clock? What's to stop the winner killing themselves, or shooting at our troops as we go to pick them up? What's to stop them from finding some gap in our security we didn't predict and escaping?"

There was a tense moment of silence after the technician finished speaking where Barret simply stared at him and for a second he worried he might have gone too far. After a couple more seconds Barret released a small chuckle and the technician felt able to breathe again. "Those are valid concerns and I'm glad you brought them up, but I think you might be overestimating those kids quite a bit. Would they band together and try to ruin our game by dying together? Maybe a few would, but it only takes one to break such a plan. I don't see many of these kids having the guts to carry out such actions. Would the winner kill themselves or try to attack the retrieval team? I see that as even more likely than them going quietly, that's why we'll send out soldiers and not technicians. Either way, if we can get them to kill each other then we've already proved our point, whether we have a winner at the end to show of it is inconsequential. As for escape, maybe; maybe we've missed something or maybe the kids will do something crazy enough to break the systems we do have. I believe we have enough redundancies built up that we can stop them even if that does occur, and if it does then we know what to fix for the next time."

Barret looked up from the technician at something over his shoulder, presumably the wall clock behind him, and let out a sigh. "Well, it's been good talking to you, it's good to let people know that they can talk to me like this without having to deal with the consequences," his words were reassuring, but the smile was not. "But if you'll excuse me I need to go take care of the next announcement."

No one on the island jumped this time as the now expected feedback squeal burst forth from the speakers placed in seeming haphazard fashion around the island, one of the aging devices popping in protest. By now, several of the more well-adjusted students had taken to using this time to take a break and listen, reasoning, perhaps foolishly so, everyone else would be doing the same and they would be safe. As the feedback died down, the familiar yet unwelcome sound of Barret's distorted voice filled the air.

"It's that time once again children! We've had a very exciting six hours, not as many deaths as I would have liked but, alas, you can't have everything. We finally start to live up to our name here at the Battle Royale as we have our very first actual fights. Any potential killers out there be warned, seems like some of these kids are starting to grow some backbone.

"But that's not what we're here for, is it? I'm sure you're all as eager to find out who died as I am, so let's dive right in with no further preamble.

"Our first casualty of this time period was Lilly Gordon, a.k.a G20. Poor form to her killer here, shooting a small girl in the back. We know we should hardly complain about how you kill as long as you're killing, but at least show some class," a pause accompanied by the shuffling of papers and clearing of throats. "Oh, and one more thing. The cameras are everywhere, your friend might not have seen what you did to her, but we did.

"Moving on," the segue was so abrupt that some people were left wondering if that last part had even been said at all. "Next up was Andrea Wilson, a.k.a. G3. I really don't know what to say about this girl. She was promising, good set of useful skills, athletic, not a great starting weapon but I've seen people cause carnage with less. Then she went and decided to burrow into the forest somewhere and wait for things to blow over."

The sound of a dejected sigh filtered across the island and many of the people listening could picture the cause of all their problems pinching the bridge of his nose as he carried on. "I will say this once people, you cannot win this game by simply hiding away and waiting things out. I know there are probably a few of you thinking you can just sit back, wait for everyone to kill each other and then pop out of your little hole to kill the only other survivor.

"There's just one problem with that idea: they have all the weapons and you have nothing because you never fucking did anything. If you want to win, get out there, be proactive, or else you'll just end up like this girl and get killed by someone better armed."

Another habitual clearing of the throat to signal he was moving on and the announcement continued. "But I digress. The third and final death was of one Adrian Starr, a.k.a. B21. Heh, I have to say, a lot of people here were disappointed when this one bought it, a lot of money was riding on him to pull out a win. I wonder, if he hadn't hurt his leg would the fight have ended the same way? Maybe, maybe not. That's what I love about this game; you just never know how things are going to turn out. One random event, one tiny occurrence and the way things could play out are changed forever.

"That's ten people dead and the first day isn't even over yet. That's a good start children, but you'll have to pick up the pace if you want to live. There's still 33 left to kill and only 54 hours to do it in. Clock's ticking."

While most of the students on the island had stopped whatever they were doing to listen to the announcement and take a well-deserved rest, some, at least, had chosen to forgo this. He ducked, barely avoiding decapitation as the axe head cut through the air above him to imbed itself in the surface of a heavy, wooden door as the teen scurried away from his attacker. Barret's voice continued to issue forth unabated from the speakers placed on the building around the two boys, going completely unnoticed by either and providing nothing more than background noise to the fight which had been occurring for several minutes now.

The larger boy tightly gripped the long handle of his weapon and braced one foot against the door as he put his full weight on the stuck object, managing to dislodge it before turning to face his target. Said boy promptly smacked him across the face with the wooden edge of his own weapon, the lightweight nunchucku bouncing back from the impact but leaving a distinct, red welt across the other boys cheek.

Stewart Rice, a.k.a. B15, flinched back from the hit, the easily recognizable taste of blood hitting his tongue as he glared back at the other student. He bared his teeth and all but growled at the boy as he quickly moved forward, bringing the bright red fire axe up over his head and rapidly returning with a powerful downward swing, nearly pitching forward from the effort. The other boy, a.k.a. Eric Reynolds, a.k.a. B6, executed a clumsy dodge and managed to get out of the path of the blade just in time to avoid bifurcation.

Eric regained his footing and quickly ran from the larger teen as he recovered from his swing. Eric's own weapon, nothing more than two lengths of polished and painted wood connected to each other by a length of chain, was held limply in one hand as he idly twirled one end around on the chain. He had discovered early on that he found it easier to quickly react to a threat if the weapon was already in motion before he started the swing. He demonstrated this by smacking aside the axe head as Stewart tried again to hit him, sending the heavier weapon wide and opposite from his body as he again hurried away from his determined attacker.

He glanced behind him, a quick look over his shoulder to make certain he did not accidentally back into something or trap himself in a dead end. There was not much risk of that, the area they were fighting in was fairly open and uncluttered, but it was still boxed in on several sides so it was better to be careful. They were at the docks, on a flat piece of land between two buildings on the outskirts to be precise. The sea was not visible from where they stood, but it was close enough that they could hear the crash of waves and breathe the sea water-scented air.

Eric had been hiding away in one of these buildings since around the second announcement, seeing no reason to move when he was so far up the island and most likely away from the "action," as it were. Then, of course that psycho with the axe had to show up and try to kill him. The teen had been caught outside when the larger boy had arrived and had only just managed to make it through the door and barricade it when Stewart finally caught up to him, immediately going to work on breaking the door down, putting his fireman's axe to its intended use. Luckily, even the aged, sea air worn door was strong enough to stand up to the punishment and soon the banging ceased. Eric had waited a further twenty minutes after that before foolishly deciding to check if the coast was clear, only to find the axe-wielding teen had only been waiting for him to make such a mistake and immediately began attacking him again. Eric had been forced to stay outside since then, not willing to risk running straight for the door again lest the other student catch him before he managed to close it behind him and took him out. Instead, he was required to dance around like an idiot in a situation where mistiming a step meant losing one or more body parts.

Fortunately, as it was, Stewart had yet to even touch a hair on the other boy with the axe. The teen seemed to have no real skill with the weapon, obviously not having ever had the chance to gain some prior experience, and instead relied on the time-tested but ineffective berserker tactics of attack, attack, attack. He swung the weapon in wild arcs, which would then be easily dodged and the axe would carry the boy away from his target or imbed itself in some part of the scenery.

Never the less, Eric could not risk keeping this going for much longer, he knew he was likely to make a mistake long before the other boy gave up or tired himself out; it was only a matter of time. As it had been said before, though, escaping was easier said than done. Returning to one of the dock buildings was out of the question. Stewart had proven already he was willing to wait Eric out for the chance to kill him. Similarly, he could not just make a run for it. Eric was not exactly the most athletic of people and Stewart was undoubtedly in better shape than he was; as such he did not really feel like putting is life on the line under the assumption he could outrun the other boy if need be. That, of course, left only the option of incapacitating him long enough to get away.… using what is essentially a stick, a broken and then tied back together stick, to knock out a guy with an axe. Great.

Eric barely managed to avoid another horizontal swing, bending backwards and sucking in his stomach as the axe head passed barely an inch away from splitting him open. It was becoming even more dangerous now that Eric was forcing himself to get closer to Stewart after every attack, attempting to get close enough to land a couple ineffective hits of his own before the axe returned for another try. Frankly, it was a miracle he was still in one piece by this point.

A flash of red in the corner of his vision signalled another passing of the axe head and he decided to take another chance and charge in, bringing the nunchucku back and preparing to swing it forward when he felt something very solid collide with his head with a dull thump. He staggered to the side, barely staying on his feet as the pain started at his temple and blossomed through his skull. Apparently, Stewart had managed to swing the axe back around after his miss and it was only by luck and Stewart's inexperience Eric had only been hit by the flat side of the axe head rather than the razor edge along the front of the axe or sharp tip on the back.

He turned to face his attacker just in time to be hit again, doubling over as the top of the axe head was thrust into his stomach, knocking the air from his lungs. He stumbled back while clutching his stomach, all too aware of how vulnerable he was now he could not move as freely as before. Stewart took advantage of his crooked posture by twirling the axe handle in his hands to swing the head of the axe around and upwards to catch him under the chin, slamming Eric's teeth together and forcing him upright again. Still unbalanced, he stumbled back a few more steps and collided with a pile of stacked crates, sending a couple of them crashing to the ground and himself tripping over and landing heavily on his back, which did not help with his continuing effort to get air back into his lungs.

To his relief, Stewart did not immediately capitalize on the chance to finish him off, the boy having apparently caught on to the fact recklessly attacking was not getting him anywhere and had decided to slow down a little. Instead, the larger teen was slowly advancing on his fallen prey, presumably waiting to see if there was any threat of him suddenly getting back up again. Stewart soon found himself standing at Eric's feet, towering over the other boy as he continued to cough and lay there with a dribble of blood running down from his nose. He raised the axe confidently over his head and prepared to swing it down, and this was the sight that greeted Eric when he looked up to see Stewart standing above him. Lacking a more strategic option and relying mostly on gut reactions, Eric lifted one leg up kicked out as hard as he could at the other boys leg, his foot connecting solidly with the inside of his knee. The joint buckled from the impact and Stewart fell forward, the axe head hitting the ground next to Eric's head as his aim was thrown off, much to Eric's relief.

Not wasting any time, Eric reached up and, grabbing hold of the edge of one of the nearby crates for leverage, pulled himself back onto his feet. Quickly running away a few steps, he turned back around to see Stewart just starting to slowly pull himself up, obviously favoring the uninjured leg. Seeing this as the opportunity he had been looking for, Eric wasted no more time and fled the scene. Once out of the area of the dock buildings, he turned onto the main road, using the well-paved surface to get as much speed and distance over Stewart as he could before suddenly veering into the trees once he deemed himself far enough away that the other teen could not have seen which way he had gone.

He stopped a while later and walked over to rest his back against a nearby tree, sucking in deep breaths to recover from the exertion. It was lucky he was still wearing his pack when the fight had started and he had managed to hold onto his nunchucku when he fell, or else he might have left either of them behind when he ran. He wondered if perhaps he overdid it a little when he ran away, seeing as he now had no idea where he was and no longer had the energy to do anything more taxing than a slow walk.

"….no, when you're running away from a crazed, axe-wielding, former classmate, there's no such thing as running too far away."

Using the axe and a nearby crate for support, Stewart was able to push himself back to his feet without much trouble, though he still could not put much weight on his leg without summoning a load of pain. He had turned around just in time to see Eric disappearing around the corner of one of the buildings and immediately gave him up as a lost cause. He could not chase after him with his now much slower limping speed, nor did he particularly want to run after him through the trees just to kill him.

He limped over to the building with the axe mark in the door, using said axe as a cane, and entered. There was nothing all that remarkable about the building itself, most of the structures around the docks were small warehouses and storage buildings; closer to the water he would probably find a few dry docks and boats under repair. He walked over to a stack of crates in the corner of the room and sat down on one of them, dropping his pack to the floor and leaning his weapon against the side. No, no sense in chasing people around the island, not when he now had a recently abandoned dock building to set himself up in.

(Author's Note: Can't help but think those announcements are too wordy. Oh well, I guess Barret just has a tendency to ramble.

Anyway, as we reach the quarter point of this Battle Royale I feel it is as good time as any to get some feedback. I'm not sure how many people actually read this story but I want to ask everyone who does what they think of these characters so far. Which ones do you like, which ones do you dislike? Which ones need improving/developing? Who would you like to see live for a while longer and who do you want to see less of.

I'm not really used to writing such a heavily character driven story, so some feedback would help me to know what I'm doing right or wrong. I can't say that the answers will influence the story too much, but it might affect the plans I have already laid out. So, send me a review, tell me what you think so far)


	22. Nineteeth Hour 34 Students Remaining

Nineteenth Hour – 34 Students Remaining

They were still alive. They were not dead yet. Neither of their names were on the last announcement. Both of them are still alive. Then why could she not get the image of them lying dead somewhere out of her mind? Cold and dead and alone, just like Edward was right now.

Zoe King, a.k.a. G14, was going crazy. This game was torture. She had not seen her friends- had not seen anybody since she had left the mess hall almost a full day ago. Only the occasional distant gunfire and the announcements reminded her she was not completely alone out there. Really, the fact she had yet to run into anybody should have been a relief. After all, she knew people out there were dying and killing and she knew she would not be able to put up much of a fight with just her weapon. It was a standard, metal tire iron, but the fact she had no idea what was going on with the people she cared about was driving her absolutely insane.

Zoe was a people person, always had been; not in the sense she was extremely popular, though she did well enough. Just in the sense she needed people around her to feel comfortable. She did not do well with isolation, which is exactly what she had been subjected to for the last eighteen hours and counting. She was worried for her friends: Zack and Charlie; she had no idea what they had been through and no clue where they were. Were they as worried about her as she was about them? Were they together? Were they safe? Just because the announcement did not say they were dead did not mean they were not dying, or injured.

Zack had left before her, but he was not around when she herself left so he must have run off without waiting. She would have been annoyed at him, but she did the exact same thing to Charlie who was still inside when she ran off. Their other friend Edward had left before any of them, but she already knew what happened to him: dead, stabbed apparently, several hours ago. She both dreaded and wished for a meeting with whomever it was that did that; wishing so she could introduce her tire iron to their heads, and dreading because she really did not want to know what kind of person could kill like that.

She tried to get her mind away from such topics, knowing it would inevitably drift back to those thoughts later on anyway and instead tried to focus on what she was doing right now. It was most likely down to Zoe's complete avoidance of buildings that she had managed to not run into anybody in the game so far. She reasoned most people would head towards the many buildings strewn across the island and had, as a result, decided to stay well away from any such structure. She had also tried her very best to avoid any of the roads crisscrossing the island and even avoid passing through any clearings if possible; she would only leave the trees and expose herself if absolutely necessary. However, this could not continue forever, especially not if she was ever going to find her friends. Better to bite the bullet now and start searching before anything else could happen.

Unfortunately, she soon discovered a problem when she realized she had no idea where she actually was. She had been trying to keep track of her location and where she was going, the map and compass hanging around her neck proving invaluable. Yet she was discouraged to find the nearest building, the motor pool, was not there; realizing she had apparently gotten turned around at some point. Either that, or the map was wrong in the first place. No matter the reason though, the fact was she was lost and had to resort back to wandering aimlessly around the forest; only this time, she would head towards any building she saw rather than simply skirt around them.

As expected, visibility was not always great in the forest; sometimes the trees and their branches would be so sparsely spaced one could see far ahead with no problem, other times it was so dense one could not walk more than three feet without having to push a branch out of one's face. Zoe was currently in the latter type of environment, which slowed her considerably. Nevertheless, she pushed onwards, used to the ordeal by now. She reached up with her tire iron to hook a particularly large branch and pull it aside, only to freeze upon seeing the other side.

The branch moved to reveal a small, open area, devoid of any of the vegetation that had been blocking her way for a while now. The only object of note in the entire clearing was a large, lumpy, distinctly human-shaped mass at the opposite end. Of course, the longer the game went on and the more people fell victim to the situation, the more chance there was somebody might stumble across a dead body. Zoe had even wondered a couple hours ago if she would ever come across one herself, but even that did not prepare her for the shock and reality of it actually happening.

Suddenly finding it harder to breathe, Zoe stepped forward into the clearing and released the branch, keeping the tire iron by her side as she almost mindlessly walked towards the body. It was easy to see what had killed them; a single bloody hole adorned the body's chest, though Zoe could not even guess what might have caused it. From the dishevelled clothing, Zoe guessed there might have been a fight beforehand, or perhaps they were just trying to run away. Either way, death probably was not a surprise for them.

She had not looked at the face yet; did not want to, did not need to, she recognized the shirt. By this point in the game, there were about ten bodies lying around the island, the majority of which were inside buildings. This made running into one out in the forest an extremely unlikely occurrence, so the fact Zoe happened to do so could only be called bad luck. The sickening fact it happened to be the body of one of her best and closest friends was just a sign the universe must not have liked her too much.

Unable to put it off any longer, she turned her head to look at his face and immediately wished she had not. He had not been dead long enough for the more severe effects of decomposition to set in, but he still looked unmistakeably corpse-like nonetheless. His skin was pale and tinged slightly green; his eyes were clouded over and held none of the life they usually possessed. This thing looked more like a parody of the person she knew than it did Edward.

Tears were starting to sting her eyes as she stood there; she actually surprised herself in not having started crying in earnest yet. She knew he was dead of course, but only in the abstract sense that she knew she was not going to see him again. Hearing it on an announcement was so different, so far away from actually being there and seeing the evidence right in front of her; she could not even compare the two. The announcement saddened her; this simply hurt.

She dropped down to her knees next to Edward's body and reached forward with a shaking hand to pull his eyes closed, allowing her hand to linger there for a second before moving it down to rest on his chest. This was killing her inside, and yet, she could tell this was a good thing. Now, she had motivation to do what she needed to do. She needed to find her friends right now before anything could happen to them. Now that she knew the pain of losing someone so close to her, she was more determined than ever to stop it from happening again.

She wiped the moisture from her eyes and pushed herself to her feet. She wished she could do more, to not have to just leave him out there to rot, but she knew she did not have the time or even the tools required to do something like digging a grave. She needed to simply leave now, choose a direction and walk. She was bound to run into a building at some point, and if she happened to miss everything on the map and hit the coast instead? Then at least she would have a better clue about where she was.

She raised her compass and her map to eye level; as far as she could tell, she had kept to the east side of the island thus far, meaning heading west would give her the best chance of running into something before hitting the water. With that in mind, she found her direction and started forward, leaving the clearing and heading out into the game once more.

Isaac Holmes, a.k.a. B5, cautiously approached the looming shape of the warehouse with his weapon carefully braced against his shoulder. The oversized SPAS-12 felt heavy in his arms, but he managed to keep it steady using the strap over his shoulder and its fold-away stock. He made it to the side door of the building without opposition and carefully pushed the barrel of the shotgun against the wooden surface, experimentally nudging it; the door opened slowly before being pushed open fully by another, more forceful, push.

For some time after Gerald abandoned him at the motor pool, though he at least had to be grateful he did not attempt to kill him or steal his supplies, Isaac had been reconsidering his options. While he had never really believed Gerald was trustworthy to begin with, his confidence in his plan of finding and recruiting as many people as possible into an escape attempt was shaken. Not to mention the fact the bastard had taken the only vehicle at the garage that even had the potential to work again.

His initial plan of action after leaving the motor pool was to travel almost directly northwest until he reached the shore and hopefully the docks, to a reasonable degree of accuracy, and begin his search there. Of all the buildings and structures on the island the docks held, at least in his mind, the best chance of yielding anything useful to escaping the island. However, once he realized that his path would take him quite close to this place, he decided to take a little detour and see what he could find. After all, if the dock was first, then the warehouse was a close second.

Walking inside, he could already see its uses. Being the single largest enclosed space on the island, it would make a great staging area for whatever plan they came up with. He moved through the door into an area of the warehouse that was relatively devoid of any clutter, while the other half was filled with stacked crates, still leaving a large open area they could work in. Curious, he walked over to the nearest crate that did not have anything stacked on top of it and began trying to pry it open, laying his shotgun on top as he did so.

He could not imagine the people who put them here would leave anything useful lying around like this, but then again perhaps they simply did not have the time or the means to move these crates and just hoped no one would think to get inside them. It was wishful thinking, but it was still worth a look nonetheless. At this point in time, however, what Isaac really needed was a working vehicle. It would make searching the island for all he needed, including other people, much easier.

He ran his fingers along the edge of the crate's lid, walking around it and trying to find a gap somewhere along the seal so he could fit something into it and pry it open. He had just discovered a small gap in the lid where he might have been able to fit something like a knife when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Without even thinking about it, he reached out with one hand and grabbed his weapon, bringing it back to his shoulder and aiming it up at the wide window above him. It was unnerving to think how quickly the shotgun had become like a part of him, an appendage; never more than an arm's reach away and almost always in sight. He supposed it was simply natural to rely on one's only true source of security in a situation like this, but it still worried him a little.

After a few moments of complete silence and lack of movement from the window, Isaac began to walk over to the set of metal stairs set against the wall of the warehouse to take a look inside the room. He climbed, moving as quickly as he dared without making noise until he reached the top. Placing a hand against the metal surface of the door, Isaac took a deep breath and waited. The door was slightly ajar, meaning he would not have to turn the handle to open it and could enter quickly and easily, but even so he did not want to just rush straight into a trap.

Still hearing nothing, he rushed forward and pushed open the door with the barrel of his shotgun before quickly moving into the room, stepping aside and away from the doorway. A quick scan of the room told him it was empty- no students at least, just the kind of furniture you would expect to find in any regular office. There was, however, a desk near the back of the door which kept it from opening fully. Perhaps someone had been there before and had tried to barricade the door shut? Either way, there was no one there now and no reason to stay there.

Returning to the ground floor, Isaac released a sigh and allowed the weapon around his neck to drop and hang by its strap. He decided it was about time he left; while the warehouse would certainly be useful later on, at the moment there was nothing that could be done in the place. With no tools, no allies and not even a plan to start with, the building was just so much empty space. It was an interesting distraction at least, but now he needed to get back to what he was doing beforehand and head for the docks. Thus, leaving through the same door he came through, that was exactly where he should arrive at next.

"I'm not so sure about this anymore. I mean, it looks kind of... scary."

"What do you mean? It's just a church."

"No, it's the kind of church you expect to see in a horror movie. The abandoned ones with the broken windows and furniture, the ones with the ominous messages written in blood on the walls. The ones with either a deranged serial killer or a crazed cult living in the basement, looking for teenaged girls to kidnap and torture before sacrificing them to their pain god. That kind of church."

"...you're exaggerating."

Elizabeth 'Liz' Shaw, a.k.a. G22, gazed up the hill at the old church building above them. The recognizably gothic architecture, dishevelled appearance, and dramatically darkening sky behind it did nothing to assuage her fears. However, when her new friend began the trek up the winding path leading towards the back of the building without her, she had no choice but to follow or be left alone in the fading light. The taller girl adjusted the heavy weapon in her arms and hurried after the small, retreating form of Julia Watashi, a.k.a. G10.

After leaving the armoury behind, the two girls had debated for quite a while where they should go next. Almost every building on the island was mentioned at least once, most being dismissed outright while others took a while to whittle down. Eventually, they decided the relatively isolated church building would provide the best cover; such structures usually had simple layouts, limited entrances, and heavy, wooden doors that could be easily locked and barricaded.

Upon arriving, they realized the location was both worse and even better than they imagined. Worse because the buildings seemed to be in awful condition; several of the large, stained glass windows were broken in places or just completely gone. Certain parts of the walls and even fairly large chunks of the bell towers seemed to have fallen right off the building as well; not to the point the building might collapse, but a worrying sign none the less. It was also better due to the fact the building was not simply isolated, it stood several meters above the surrounding area, having been built atop of a large hill for purposes which neither girl wanted to question. Once inside, the church would undoubtedly give them an unrivalled view of the area around them as well as anybody who might try to get near them.

Whatever confidence Liz may have had upon rejoining Julia on the way up to the church plummeted when she spotted what was ahead of them. "This place even has its own graveyard. Are you kidding me?"

"Liz, just relax, okay? This isn't a zombie movie, it's just... a three day fight to the death with all our classmates."

"So nothing to worry about then?"

They continued walking in silence from that point on, passing through the graveyard without incident; despite Liz's reservations, nothing burst out from the ground and nobody jumped out from behind any of the headstones or statues. They walked around the side of the church until they emerged at the front of the building, finding the area similarly deserted and with an unobstructed view as the back.

Reassuringly, the large, wooden doors were already open, hopefully a sign nobody currently occupied the church and they would be able to take over the place unopposed. Julia walked down the central aisle first, moving quickly between the two rows of pews towards the front while Liz stayed back by the door and looked around the hall. The church seemed to have faired far better on the inside than the outside over the years; the broken windows and such still marred the overall appearance, but other than that the place did not appear to be in horrible condition. The furniture was all still in position and undamaged, there was no trash, no broken glass or anything on the ground; aside from a definite layer of dust on everything the place could have been vacated just last week.

She looked ahead to see Julia standing stock still in front of the altar, staring to the side at something behind the front row of pews. Hidden from her own sight, Julia seemed pale from the sight. Liz could tell that whatever it was she was seeing was not something pleasant. Now worried again, Liz took a few steps forward to join her.

"Don't come any closer."

"What is it? Julia?"

"Nothing, just... don't come up here, okay?"

Liz ignored the warning and continued towards Julia to stand next to her. "Why? What is it, what did you…?" She slowed upon seeing the puddle of red liquid peeking out from around the corner of the pews. Even so, she continued walking forward, exposing more of the liquid until her eyes landed on someone's hand. Now committed, she moved closer until the full body came into view.

To her credit, Liz did not scream upon seeing the entire, grizzly sight, she just flinched and turned her head away. Shifting her head upwards again, she moved her eyes over the scene. Past the pool of blood, past the stained hacksaw on the ground, quickly skipping over the jagged cuts on the wrist and up to the pale, blood-drained face. It was obvious this girl had decided to take the easy way out of the game and kill herself, not that Liz could really blame her, though she could not see herself ever making the same decision. Still, she had to wonder, what was going through her mind when she did this...

"Do you recognize her?" Liz nearly jumped when Julia's voice suddenly cut through the tension.

"No, I don't." That fact kind of saddened Liz, the idea she had probably seen this girl around school, known her for years of her life and yet could not even place a name to the face. She never truly knew her, and now she never would. "We should do something about her."

The blank expression on Julia's face made it obvious enough she had no idea what Liz was getting at or what her current concerns were. "What do you mean? Like what?"

"I don't know, we can't just leave her here like this."

The smaller girl looked thoughtful for a second, frowning as she gazed down at the body before them. Suddenly, her face lit up with what was presumably a good idea. "Well, there is a graveyard out back?"

"That sounds like a good idea, but we don't have anything to dig a grave with and we can't just dump her on the ground. That would be too disrespectful."

"We can still dig a grave without the right tools. It'll just take a lot longer."

"Yeah, you're right. But if we're going to spend that much time doing it, we should probably get everything set up in here first. I don't want to come back in to find somebody else has arrived while we were gone."

"All right, let's just stack a few pews against the front doors for now and we can worry about doing it better later. After that I think we should maybe deal with the body before doing anything more permanent. Let's just hope she doesn't come back to life with the other bodies, right Liz?"

"Oh shut up"


	23. Twentieth Hour 34 Students Remaining

Twentieth Hour – 34 Students Remaining

The cold water hit his skin, giving him a welcome shock to his system that helped keep his mind alert. He'd been walking for hours now, actually pretty much since the start of the game, with very few rests in between and it was starting to get to him. Daniel Lancaster, a.k.a. B9, had been following the river across the island ever since having found it not long after parting ways with Samantha and Kevin a while ago.

He still had plans of heading to the Hospital on the bottom-right corner of the island and the best way he could think to locate the building was to follow the river until it turned west, then cross over and head directly south from there. He had been carrying the compass with him at all times and checking it every few minutes and the device now told him that south was directly to his left, meaning he had just about reached the point where he needed to cross over. In the meantime he was taking a short break before he began looking for a place narrow or shallow enough for him to hop or wade across without trouble.

Now that he had a moment when he wasn't focusing on not getting lost or keeping an eye out for a place to cross, his mind wandered back to thought of the couple he had helped earlier. He wondered how Samantha and Kevin were doing now, if they had run into any trouble since he left them and if he should have taken Samantha up on the offer to go with them. As far as Daniel knew they were fine, the announcement about two hours ago made no mention of them and he trusted that Kevin would be able to protect them both. He knew that for a fact he was capable of it.

Part of the reason it had taken Daniel so long just to get this far was because his path along the river had taken him past the location where Samantha was attacked, and where William's body still lay. It didn't take him long to piece together what had happened; the comments made by Barret when he announced William's death and the wounds on his body that looked like they might have been inflicted by a bladed weapon, like Kevin's machete, all pointed towards one fact.

It scared Daniel quite a bit to think that Kevin could do something like that and thinking back to how Kevin had reacted when he had come across the two he couldn't help but think he had been close to becoming his next victim. Still, having seen the various cuts and gashes on Samantha's arms and legs himself as he was patching her up, it was clear that it was a fight William started and he couldn't say that he didn't understand why Kevin did it.

As he came out of his thoughts, Daniel couldn't help but think that things were eerily quiet all of a sudden; minus the noise of the running water just in front of him there wasn't a sound to be heard. Something in the back of his mind alerted him to some danger and on a hunch he rolled to the side, feeling very grateful and terrified for it when the sound of a chainsaw starting up tore through the peaceful atmosphere and the whirring blade tore through the space he had just occupied. He quickly scrambled back to his feet and away from whoever was responsible before turning back to face them.

He realised even before he saw their face who it was, the sound of the engine revving happily was an instant reminder of the scene back at the barracks that seemed so long ago. This was Jacob Vayle, a.k.a. B19, a.k.a. the same person that had killed Tim back then, the same person who had come out of that building covered in blood and looking like a character straight out of a Slasher movie rather than a fellow student. He was still covered in the red stuff; his face and his clothes were stained with the dried liquid and even his chainsaw still dripped Tim's blood from its jagged teeth as he stood there, adding greatly to the students intimidation factor.

How had this guy managed to move so quietly while weighed down by something that heavy in his hands? Was he really so wrapped up in his thoughts that he hadn't heard a thing? He really needed to stop being so relaxed and realise that he could be killed at any moment; like right now for instance.

Daniel reached for his pocket and pulled out the small plastic tube, pressing the button to extend the fluorescent plastic lightsaber blade and held it in front of him defensively. It was a futile gesture of course; the weak object would shatter the instant it made contact with his attacker's weapon, but it made him feel better to have something between the two of them, no matter how flimsy it was. If Jacob had any opinion of his own about Daniel's choice of weapon, he didn't show it on his face; he just stood there with the same dull, slightly wide eyed expression he always seemed to have in school. It unnerved Daniel a little to think that the way he looked covered in blood and about to kill someone was basically the same as the way he looked in his day to day life. Did he really care that little about his fellow students that this was just another day to him, or was he just always thinking of killing someone back then?

With a sudden rush of movement, Jacob attacked him. For someone so wiry, the thin boy seemed to be able to swing the heavy chainsaw around with much more speed than Daniel would have expected. Even so, Jacob didn't seem to be in any particular hurry, walking forward at a normal pace as he swung the chainsaw around. Daniel's heart pounded in his chest and he was able to keep ahead of him with just his clumsy backward steps and continually evade the attacks. It was almost like Jacob was choosing to toy with him for a while rather than trying to kill him right away.

One particular slash at his face brought the saw blade within inches of his nose and Daniel jumped back out of fear, landing heavily on his backside as a result. Jacob kept walking forward like he hadn't noticed and Daniel began shuffling back, pulling himself back with his hands before lunging to the side to avoid a downward slash which dug into the ground and sent dirt and pebbles flying everywhere. While Jacob quickly turned the engine off to protect the blade Daniel climbed back to his feet. He considered just turning and running now, but the only way he could think that this situation could get worse was for him to suddenly find himself pursued through the forest by a madman with a chainsaw.

Before he could make up his mind however, the decision was made for him as Jacob pulled the saw from the ground and started it up again, making a successful escape at this point unlikely. It became apparent that if Daniel was going to get out of this alive he was going to need to disable him for a while so that he could run away. Given what he had to work with and what he was up against this was easier said than done; nevertheless he took a ready stance and prepared to stand up to whatever came next. He was caught unprepared last time and had faltered right from the start leading up to him nearly dying. Hopefully this time he would have a better chance.

He didn't have to wait long to find out this time, as Jacob decided not to waste any time in getting started again and lunged straight for Daniel. He thrust the chainsaw forward towards Daniel's stomach, something which the shorter boy was just able to sidestep. Daniel then raised the plastic lightsaber above his head and brought it down on Jacob's wrist, hitting the hand holding the chainsaw with a crack and causing the boy to let go of the weapon. He still held onto the handle on top with the other hand however and used this grip to swing the weapon around towards Daniel, nearly taking his head off in the process had he not ducked in time.

Trying not to focus on how close he came to dying just then, Daniel sprang up in front of Jacob again and brought his lightsaber up before slamming the bottom of the handle downwards, the solid plastic base connected with Jacob's forehead. The boy staggered as he stumbled backwards from the impact which left a red mark where it hit. Daniel knew however that Jacob would soon bounce back from the hit and start attacking him again; he needed some way to stall him for a few seconds to give himself some time to think.

"Why are you doing this? Why go along with the game?" Daniel wasn't really expecting an answer to this question and as expected Jacob didn't react at all to what he was saying. By this point in the game those who were playing had pretty much made their peace with the decision and a few simple words weren't going to convince them otherwise.

"How many people have you attack so far? How many have you killed?" Again, no reaction. Again Daniel didn't need one; he knew for a fact that Jacob was already a killer. "I know you killed Tim, I was there, at the Barracks"

That did it; Jacob paused in his movements for a second and a smile crept across his face as it registered in his mind what Daniel was saying. There was a witness to what he had done back at the Barracks or at least somebody who knew what he had done. It disturbed Daniel that Jacob thought this was somehow a good thing.

The stalling technique seemed to have a detrimental effect in that it ended up distracting Daniel rather than its intended target, as such the lesser armed boy didn't notice until it was too late that Jacob had begun his attack once more. The taller, blood soaked boy raised the chainsaw above his head and brought it down on Daniel before he had even realised Jacob had begun moving again. Moving on pure reflex Daniel raised the lightsaber up to block against the attack, holding it above his head as he watched, almost in slow motion, the two objects grow closer until they connected.

Predictably the weak, plastic tube shattered utterly as soon as it came into contact with the whirring teeth of the saw. Shards flew everywhere, several of them heading straight down away from the saw and more than a few actually stabbing Daniel in the face. The boy recoiled as he felt the plastic dig into his flesh, inadvertently stepped out of the path of the chainsaw in the process, until he felt Jacob kick him hard in the chest and knock him to the ground.

Daniel brought his hand away from his face with some streaks of blood on it and opened his eyes, looking up at the figure standing above him with a satisfied smirk on his similarly blood covered face.

Daniel's sense of panic at this stage was well justified as Jacob slowly raised the chainsaw up again, dragging the movement out as much as possible to torture his victim. He wouldn't be able to move out of the way in time to dodge, he had nothing to defend himself with and he was feeling too tired and sore to do so even if he did. He was dead.

Craning his neck further back to better see his approaching death, Daniel moved his hand over and accidentally nudged something with it and sent it rolling. He looked over quickly and saw the discarded handle of the lightsaber he had dropped when he hit the ground. The only thing left of the brightly coloured plastic blade was a short length of tube ending in a jagged shard of plastic. Thinking quickly he grabbed the handle and turned back to the oblivious Jacob, thrusting the object up and jabbing the other boy in the side with the shard.

The effect was immediate; Jacob letting out a growl, the first sound Daniel had heard him make and stepped back. Daniel acted quickly and scrambled past the boy and back to his feet, not wasting any time in breaking into a run back towards where he had left his pack. He easily scooped the bag up by the strap and continued running, the sounds of footsteps soon beginning behind him and he didn't need to look back to know that Jacob was following after him.

Even with his injured side and the much heavier weapon, Jacob was somehow gaining on Daniel, or at least that's what the increasingly loud sound of the footsteps was telling him. Again being forced to react quickly Daniel spotted a section of the river that was narrower than normal, a small offshoot of land offering the best chance of escape he had. Turning towards it he increased his run into a sprint and pushed off from the ground as hard as he could just as he reached the waters edge. He landed heavily just in the shallow water on the other side of the river, soaking his shoes and socks but thankfully keeping his feet and he made it to the other shore. He kept running until he hit the trees on the other side and risked turning back, seeing that Jacob was still standing on the piece of land he had jumped off from and glaring at him.

Placing his hand against a tree, Daniel stopped to catch his breathe; he still felt very uncomfortable standing within sight of his attacker, but with a river in between the two and no hint that Jacob was planning on following him, he felt confident enough to take a break before carrying on. He looked over at Jacob to see the boy still standing on the other side of the river looking back and wondered if he was going to try anything; maybe like jumping the river as he had to try and chase after him again.

Instead the boy only turned off his chainsaw, the absence of sound the engine left in its wake seeming much quieter than it should have been. Daniel wondered if this meant that he was finally giving up only to be confused when Jacob instead lowered the saw to the ground and reached into his pocket to retrieve something. Daniel's eyes widened considerably when he saw the other boy pull out a very familiar looking revolver.

"Oh crap. Yeah, I guess he would have taken Tim's gun wouldn't he?"

Daniel turned and ran as soon as he saw Jacob begin the raise the gun, thankfully being deep into the trees by the time the first shot was fired and planning on running until he couldn't hear them anymore or he hit water, whichever came first.

Simon Reed, a.k.a. B14, looked across the open clearing at the rusting hulk of metal in front of him as he wondered what to do with his new discovery. He really didn't know what to make of a crashed plane in the middle of a clearing in the forest, its presence there confusing him quite a bit; not because he didn't know where it came from, the airfield directly north of him was an obvious enough source, but because he didn't know why it was still there after all this time. He would have expected such a thing to be cleared away fairly quickly. The only solutions he could think of were that they either didn't have the means to do so on such a small island, or it was far away enough from everything, which it was with at least a mile of forest in every direction, that they decided to just leave it where it crashed.

Not that any of that really mattered right now, the issue at hand was what to do with it now? Simon had managed to have pretty good luck in the game so far - so long as you didn't include that incident with Gabrielle earlier that day, thank God for bullet proof vests - having not run in to anybody for hours now; he really didn't want to tempt fate now by walking up to a potentially populated place.

Nevertheless, if he wanted to do anything more than just wander around lost in the woods for the rest of the game he was going to have to; he would need supplies, he would need something to defend himself with – playing possum only gets you so far – and mostly importantly he would need allies he could trust; though that last item might be a little hard to come by.

Simon left the relative safety and cover of the trees and walked across the clearing towards the airplane, suppressing the urge to just turn around and leave before anything could happen. He didn't really know why but being out in the open like this was giving him a feeling of vulnerability that he had not really felt since the start of the game when he first put his bullet proof vest on. He knew that the item was really only bullet _resistant_ but past experience had already shown that it could do the job, nonetheless he couldn't shake the feeling he was going to get struck down suddenly by walking around like this.

His worries seemed unfounded however, and he soon found himself standing beside the rusted metal of the plane. He placed his hand over the metal surface next to the largest opening in the side and leaned forward to take a look, wondering how much of the internal components survived the crash and if anybody else had already claimed them.

He was just about to step inside when something collided with the side of the plane quite forcefully, the sound of the impact reverberating around the inside of the shell and making him jump back. He looked down at the grassy floor to see an arrow laying there, the metal head deformed slightly from the impact; he then looked at the side of the plane to see a very clear indentation where the arrow had hit no more than a few inches from where his hand had been placed. Before Simon could reflect on that fact or even wonder where the arrow had come from a voice sounded in his ear.

"Turn around slowly, unless you want the next arrow in your back"

"Tempting fate, I knew it"

"What?"

"Nothing", had he been thinking more clearly he probably would have recognised the voice sooner, but as it was all it did was spark a certain recognition in his mind that just ran into a dead end before it could tell him anything. He slowly turned around just like the voice asked until he came face to face with the person responsible for it.

"Matthew?"

Matthew Butler, a.k.a. B22, lowered the crossbow he held in his hands as he saw who he was pointing it at. "Simon. Damn am I glad to finally see a friendly face", he stepped forward and knelt down to pick the arrow up of the ground, examining the metal tip and finding it had been deformed from its impact with the side of the plane and threw it away. "Sorry about that, can't be too careful out here, you know?"

As he was standing up again he noticed something off about Simon's appearance and stepped closer, he reached out a tapped a hand against the other boys unusually bulky looking shirt and was a little surprised to hear a light tapping sound and finding it to feel surprisingly sturdy. Matthew gave him an inquisitive look as if to ask what it was.

"Bullet proof vest, it's what I got as my weapon. Actually I got a pot lid as well for some reason, that's still in my pack"

"Not bad, but how do you it works? They could just be telling you it works so they can see the look on your face when it doesn't"

Simon couldn't help but laugh a little at the idea, even if it was a little morbid. He reached up and pulled the material of his shirt tight across the vest so that the bullet hole from earlier was visible. "No, I know for a fact this thing works"

Matthew's eyes widened as he looked at the damaged shirt and the faint damage he could see to the vest underneath. "I think that needs an explanation"

"Nothing much to tell. I had a run in with the foreign exchange girl a few hours ago; she shot me but the vest stopped it and I played dead until she went away. I'm just lucky that she didn't check closer to make sure I was really dead, and that she never thought to loot my pack. Little note though, just because it stops the bullets doesn't mean they don't still hurt like a bitch"

"Damn; at least now you know you can rely on that thing to save your life, but that still sucks. I've somehow managed to avoid everybody so far, I don't think many people bother coming out here since there's nothing on the map. I think somebody might have been here before me though, there are a few things left inside which look newer than everything else"

"What have you been doing then, have you just been hiding here?"

"Pretty much; I found this place hours ago and decided to set up here. I'd go out every hour or so and take a walk around the area to see if I can find anybody for about twenty-thirty minutes before coming back, but like I said no-one ever has. That's why I didn't get here until after you showed up.

"But never mind that; what's the plan?"

Simon was not expecting this sudden change in subject and the abruptness of it forced a double take from the boy. "What plan?"

"Your plan for what to do next. Don't act like you haven't been thinking something up since you woke up in this damn classroom, you always have a plan, for everything; most of the time its kind of annoying if I'm honest, the way you don't ever just let things run their course, but this time I'll forgive you since it'll probably help us all live"

Simon raised a hand to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. He was still getting used to the fact that he had just met up with one of his best friends, as well as the fact that said friend nearly put an arrow through his hand and now all now all of a sudden expectations were on him to know exactly what to do next.

And what really pissed him off about it was that he did have a plan, in a manner of speaking.

"We're going to escape"

"Ha, I knew it. How are we doing it?"

"I don't know yet", Simon tried not to smirk at the sight of his friends face dropping as he said this. "I have a few ideas rolling around but with what we have to work with right now, none of them are possible. We'll see what we can find and then go from there. We'll also need some help if we are going to make this work; I don't suppose you have any idea where Sophie is do you?"

"Sorry, no. The main reason I kept leaving here to look for people was because I was hoping to run into either you, her or Eric. You're the first sign of life I've seen since leaving the mess hall"

Simon considered this for a moment, he already knew it was unlikely Matthew knew where anyone was but it was worth a shot, instead he thought about where they should go next. "Ok, we'll just have to find them as we go or hope that they can find us. For now we'll just have to go from place to place and see what sort of materials we can put together before setting up somewhere and starting on a plan. One thing though Matt, if we see anyone we don't trust, if you think they might be a threat, don't hesitate to use that crossbow"


	24. TwentyFirst Hour 34 Students Remaining

Twenty First Hour – 34 Students Remaining

"Chael?"

"Hmm?"

"What are we doing here?"

"What do you mean?"

The small, hunched figure at the base of the tree shifted uncomfortably, reaching up with one hand and allowed the overly long sleeve to fall back so she could brush hair out of her face only for her fringe to fall right back in front of her eyes afterwards. Trina Nichols, a.k.a. G12, looked out from under the purple streaked mess at the person she was talking to. Her mother had hated it when she had first seen it, but too bad, Trina felt the two splashes of dye added some much needed colour to her otherwise plain black mop. After a few seconds he finally relented and turned to make eye contact with her.

"We're just sitting here; we have been for hours now. I know you said staying in the woods would be safer than going to the warehouse like we said, or anywhere else for that matter and I agree, but are you really planning on just hiding out until the game blows over? What about everyone else?"

A second, much taller and broader figure stood against another tree a few feet away. Chael Tovaras, a.k.a. B8, turned away from Trina without answering her and looked away with vigilant eyes towards the direction of the main road; they were only about five minutes walk from the road which split the island in half and he figured if anyone was going to find them it was going to be from that direction.

"If someone turns up I'll deal with it"

"That's not what I meant"

With a sigh he too raised a hand to run through his short hair, something Trina recognised as a habit of his that he always used whenever he was getting frustrated or whenever she asked a question that was difficult for him to respond to. She saw him do it a lot.

"I know what you meant Trina. I don't care what happens to any of them, I'm just looking after my own skin, no one else's"

"What about Elliot?"

"He can take care of himself"

"And me?"

"That's why I'm here"

"… Thank you"

The unexpected response made Chael turn towards her again after a long period of trying to avoid doing just that. A small smile graced Trina's lips that made a world of difference from the thoughtful and somewhat sorrowful look she had maintained for most of the day so far. "What?"

"For looking out for me. I know I get on your nerves a lot, I know I annoy you and nag you, but I've only ever tried to look out for you and keep you out of trouble. It means a lot to me that you're here with me instead of out there. You could have ditched me at any time to go do what you wanted, but you didn't. So thank you; I know you'd probably rather be out there picking fights as usual"

Taking on a more sombre expression, Chael turned away from his watch and walked over to Trina, bending down to sit against another tree opposite her so that they were at eye level. He placed the Pipe Wrench he had been holding down on the ground next to him; the weapon had originally been hers but she had relinquished it almost as soon as she had met Chael, not being able to wield the heavy object herself and him only getting a lousy Butter Knife as a weapon.

"Maybe", Chael ignored the look Trina gave him at this point and quickly pushed on. "It's not like I want to play this game – not because of any warm feeling I have towards the people involved, you know how I feel about them – I just hate the fact we're being forced into it by these assholes", Trina wasn't sure if it was conscious or not but Chael was idly rubbing a hand over his injured side as if to further his point. Trina was certain that ideas of getting back at Barret for bruising his ribs had gone through Chael's mind since the start of the game, just like she was sure that the fact he couldn't enact any of them without getting his collar blown up was vexing him. "But if it's a choice between killing and being killed I know which one I'll choose"

"But, how do we know anybody is even playing? How do we know any of those names on the announcements are actually dead?" Her argument was cut short at this point as Chael gave her a look which just yelled at her to think that last part through more. "Ok so they probably are; but how do we know that Barret didn't just blow up their collars or send out some soldiers to kill them? He could just be trying to convince us that some people really are playing this game until we all just finally snap and start fighting"

"It's a nice idea, but I don't believe it for a second. There are just too many people that were on that bus that I can see playing this game and judging by those announcements a few of them are. Still, I was expecting more names to have been read out by now, so either I was wrong about a few people or they're just biding their time"

Shifting uncomfortably in her seated position, Trina looked back at Chael and wondered if she should push him further on this topic. One the one hand she really wasn't comfortable thinking along these lines but at the same time she was interested to hear what he had to say; she couldn't picture anybody from school taking part in this game but she also figured he probably had a less optimistic/more realistic idea of this sort of thing than she did. "Seriously? Like who?"

"Let's see, who do I think might go psycho? The jocks obviously, not so much Kevin – though I can definitely see him killing if his girlfriend was threatened – but Adrian and Vincent are ones to watch; those guys strike me as a little more sadistic than the average bully some times.

"Then there's Jacob, you know the tall, thin kid? Kind of a loner? The way he gets picked on all the time, the way he keeps to himself and has no friends. I've caught him giving people some seriously creepy looks sometimes, I'm telling you. I've always thought he was a potential school shooter, but now he's in this situation, he's definitely a player"

Trina waited a couple seconds before it became apparent that Chael wasn't going to say any more. In response Trina couldn't really muster anything stronger than a weak, "Y-yeah", it wasn't just the fact that they were talking about which of their classmates could become serial killers that bothered her, it was the fact that she couldn't really argue with anything that he was saying. All of the people he mentioned were people that she could only say intimidated her; the three jocks were just big and mean while Jacob was just a little creepy. Sometimes the quiet boy would be a strange but pleasant person who kept to himself, other times the cold look in his eyes would leave Trina with a shiver up her spine if she looked into them too long. "So, we know we can look out for them at least. Anyone else? Anyone less… obvious I guess?"

"…Not really; they're just guesses, the one I think are most likely to play. Really, anybody could become a killer here under the right circumstances; we'd have to look out for everyone. Maybe even Elliot if we ever find him. Maybe even me; actually probably me"

Now the conversation was really starting to get to her; it was one thing to think about people who weren't here, but her friends, including the one right in front of her? "I don't like the idea of you playing this game Chael; I hate you fighting at the best of times, let alone to the death. I know I can't stop you, but can you at least promise me that you won't attack anyone unless attacked first, at least not while I'm around?"

"…Sure"

Aside from the Warehouses, which were just a few buildings with very large rooms, and the docks, which was just a large collection of small buildings, the school was the largest location on the island as well as being the single largest building; not quite reaching the heights of the main warehouse or lighthouse but being spread over a larger area. The building was built using very old fashion architecture, of course having been built sometime in the mid-thirties, and showed its age quite clearly.

In front of the two boys lay a set of flagstone steps leading up to a set of large, double doors – peeling paint undermining their otherwise impressive appearance – which lay open ahead of them and sat under a rotted, wooden overhang. The brickwork walls that stretched away from them in either direction were covered in moss and mould that had accumulated over the decades.

Zack Stone, a.k.a. B11, and Charles Palmer, a.k.a. B17, had chosen this place, of all the locations on the island, to make their sanctuary after leaving the suburban street behind hours ago. They had thought that the remote location – most buildings, especially the new ones, where located north of the mess hall where they started while the School lay far to the south-west – as well as its size would give them a safe place to hide, but looking at it now Charlie was beginning to have his doubts.

"This place doesn't look quite as welcoming as I thought it would"

Zack, however, was not put off by its appearance as he walked purposely up the steps towards the main doors, holding his sawn-off shotgun up in front of him with both hands for defence. "It's a school what did you expect?"

Charlie took one last look up at the façade of the school before quickly following after Zack who was already making his way down the corridor. He removed his Sickle from where he had placed it in one of his belt loops before climbing the stairs, taking a glance around the entranceway to make sure that nobody was going to see them go in. It would kind of defeat the purpose of hiding here if somebody saw them enter after all.

He turned back to see that Zack was already nearing the end of the hallway and hurried to catch up to him. He passed the rows of rusted lockers lining both walls and the notice board with the faded, crinkled posters; the decrepit, decayed look laid over a place that was otherwise so familiar coupled with the pervasive smell of mould and rot in the air generated a sense of unease within Charlie that he couldn't shake. He had the feeling that something very bad would occur here at some point.

He met up with Zack as the other boy waited for him at the end of the corridor before they both continued on into the next hallway and began passing the classrooms. Zack was all business, keeping his eyes forward and pointing the shotgun ahead of him while only giving the rooms they passed a cursory glance to check if they held any threats. Charlie on the other hand couldn't help but get distracted by every little detail, though he managed to keep his sickle handy just in case something surprised him.

The classrooms they passed where typical of the kind of rooms you would expect to find in any school, albeit several decades out of date. Rows of wooden desks and chairs, all covered in a thick coating of dust – some of which even still had books and the occasional piece of stationary on top as if the classes were evacuated in a hurry – and old fashioned chalkboards which the writing still left on them gave the impression of a place that wasn't just empty but… dead. Devoid of the life that should have been present.

All through this not a word was said between the two boys, much as it had been for most of the game; it was unnerving to Charles for his friend to be so quiet. Not that he wasn't usually the quietest of any group anyway, that was just the way Zack was. But this was a different kind of silence, more thoughtful than just not having anything worth saying, more sombre. It was like he had something important on his mind that needed his attention. Charlie tried to engage the other boy in conversation a few times, asking him various questions about the school and what he thought about the situation, but rarely ever managed to provoke more than a monosyllabic reply from him.

After a several minutes and a few more corridors they finally stumbled across something different. Charlie moved forward and threw open the double doors to the large, mostly empty room before stepping aside to let Zack move in with his shotgun just to be safe. The school's gym was just as deserted and unused to human life as the rest of the school; racks of wooden climbing bars lined every wall, safety mats lay stacked in one corner of the large room and an open door that led to what would normally be a well stocked equipment room stood opposite them while everything was covered in a familiar layer of dust. Strange when you thought that someone must have entered the room at some point to prepare it for the game, as evidenced by the brand new camera that hung in one lonely corner.

With nothing of interest to occupy them the two boys moved on from the gym. While such a large room would be able to house them for the remainder of the game with ease, with nothing in the room to shield them they would essentially be completely exposed should someone manage to get the drop on them.

It took a while before they found anything other than more classrooms after that, but once they did they were both certain that they had found somewhere suitable. The cafeteria was about a large as the gym, though with a much lower roof, and contained much more clutter in the form of the tables and chairs that took up most of the floor space, making it a much more suitable place to hold up in for the time being than the rest of the school.

Unlike the rest of the building the cafeteria appeared to be much newer in construction; probably because, while the gym and classrooms could be improved with new equipment and furniture, the cafeteria would need to be renovated to keep up as it apparently had been.

It took them a few more minutes to search the room fully, making sure that nobody had already staked claim to the place and that there were no back doors that would let someone sneak up on them. Once that was done they were finally able to drop their packs onto the tables and take a break.

Charlie turned his chair around so that it faced away from the table, putting it behind him, and sat down. He leaned back and placed his arms on the flat surface behind him to hold him up as he let out a sigh. Zack on the other hand climbed up onto a separate table, sitting down on it and placing his feet on one of the chairs in front of him, leaning forward and resting his arms on his drawn-up knees. The other boy had a faraway look in his eyes that Charlie recognised from every other time that his friend had gotten completely lost in his thoughts; it was pretty obvious that some important conversation was about to come his way. That was always the way it worked with Zack, he wouldn't say much more than he had to, but when he did speak it tended to give people something to think about.

"Do you think we stand a chance? Of surviving I mean. Do you think it's possible we could make it out alive?"

Given their situation is wasn't a surprise to find out what Zack had been thinking about, even so it took Charlie a few seconds to come up with a suitable response. "I think we could. We, well you, have decent weapons, a good location and few enough enemies that we might be able to last all the way till the end of this game. Once that happens though, I'm not sure what we'll do", given that their were two of them and only one could win this, what they would do in that situation was not something Charlie wanted to think about, so he left this last part unsaid and hoped Zack would do the same.

"No, no, I mean survive the game entirely, break out of it somehow. Escape, rescue, divine intervention; they all seem pretty unrealistic to hope for, but it's the only thing we _can_ hope for, unless we want to start playing this game"

"Well… rescue's pretty unlikely, and even if it does happen we'll need to be alive to see it, so we'll just have to keep doing what we're doing and hope for the best" Charlie thought about the possibility of escape for a moment. If it did happen, if somebody did find a way to remove these collars or something and give them a way out, that would only be the first part of it. They would still need to get past the most likely dozens of armed soldiers in the mess hall and on the boats around the island. They would have to kill their way out.

"As for escape? I don't know. It'll be tough of course, maybe impossible. They wouldn't let us go easy, we'd probably have to fight our way out and kill all the soldiers in our way to make it. I don't know if I can do that man, it's not much different from playing the game if we do that; not as bad as killing our classmates but still killing someone. I don't know if I can do that"

"That's what I thought you'd say; and I agree. We'll probably have to resort to killing one way or the other, whether it's during an escape, or when we're the only…" Zack's voice faded away at this point and Charlie knew that his friend was thinking the same thing he had been. "I think I can do what I have to if it comes to it. No… I'm sure I can"

There were several things to be found on the island that were to be afraid of; the Dangerzone around the mess hall was a constant threat, the several students armed with guns were another and the students armed with or without guns who wanted to use them were an even larger one. Few sights on the island though, could inspire the same sort of dread as that of an ordinary, blood-splattered, teenage girl walking merrily through the forest while swinging a bloodied axe from one hand.

And while Madeline Scott, a.k.a. G13, couldn't exactly be described as 'merry' she was still somebody to be avoided if you could help it. Especially since she was starting to feel a little agitated due to not having seen anybody since the run in she had with Penelope hours ago. In this state she was liable to attack the first person she saw just to have something to do; not that she wouldn't have attacked them anyway.

Then again, her lack of human contact might have had something to do with the places she had been since meeting Penelope. Her wanderings after that point had been more or less random and had at one point managed to bring her back to the mess hall where they had started. Unwilling to turn around and go back the way she had just come Madeline was forced to carefully skirt the edges of the Dangerzone around the building until she was clear on the other side. A few times she had gotten close enough that her collar started to emit a loud, high pitched beeping, probably some sort of proximity warning telling her she was too close; a couple of times she was even close enough to see someone looking out of the windows at her as she made her way past them. It took a lot of self control not to at least flip them off along the way.

After that unfortunate incident Madeline decided she would be better off with a more planned route and navigated her way towards the motor pool after a couple more hours of walking. While the old garage was decidedly safer than the last building she had been to it was also much emptier and as such held no interest for her.

Now much later it was starting to worry Madeline that she hadn't seen anybody yet; if everybody had locked themselves away in the various buildings across the island, if everybody was sorting themselves into little groups it would make her job that much harder. She could still manage it of course, she was confident in her abilities to make people dead if she needed to, but her main weapon on this island would be the fact that nobody would expect her to be playing the game. They'd all see her as the annoying, vaguely condescending little daddy's girl that she portrayed herself as in school – the kind of girl Penelope genuinely was – who is just too scared to ever use the weapon given to her. And if they were in tightly knit groups or sealed behind locked doors it would be harder for her to infiltrate them, gain their trust and kill them while their backs we turned.

If she managed to get in though, she was confident she could manage the rest. It wouldn't be too hard to keep up the act – she'd been doing it pretty convincingly for years and no-one noticed – the only problem would be the few people who knew the 'real' her, the people who saw what she was like away from the constraints of home, school and 'friends' and let loose. Though those kind of people were very few and far between – she'd always been cautious to avoid people from school during those times – there were one or two who would just see straight through her rich girl act and put an end to her plans immediately, most likely with a well placed bullet if they could.

Madeline paused as she heard the first whispers of voices reaching her ears through the trees ahead of her, though still too far away for her to see clearly. From the sounds of it there were two of them and neither of them had the note of panic or worry that would be there if they had already spotted her; perfect. She crouched down as best she could without actually touching the dirt beneath her and stalked forward in the direction of the voices, stopping a minute of two later when they both came into view.

Facing her while sitting against the base of a tree was a girl with pink dye streaked hair and a figure hiding jacket. Madeline was sure she recognised the girl but the name wasn't immediately forthcoming and even if it was she was too engrossed in the second figures red-covered back to care too much. It had to be _him_; of all the people to run into out here it had to one of the few people who would instantly see right through her fake little act to the person underneath. Probably the one person on the whole island who could do so and also have no qualms about just killing her then and there to not deal with the problems her presence would bring up.

So much for the sneaky approach, she was going to have to do this upfront.

Still, no reason for her to fight fairly she thought as she reached round into her pack and pulled out the blowpipe she had gotten from Penelope's corpse. She didn't know what weapons they had, what condition they were in or even if they had a third person behind another tree where she couldn't see them. All she knew was that Chael over there was the biggest threat she could see and if she could take him out quick and easy with a tranquiliser dart she would.

Carefully removing a few darts from the pack without pricking her finger on one of them she placed all but one in her pocket and placed the last in the end of the pipe. She took a deep breathe and held it, lining up the pipe with her target, aiming slightly above Chael's back in order to account for the distance. Then, closing her lips over the end of the pipe tightly, she let go of the breath she was holding and blew as hard as she could into the pipe. The dart flew out immediately after, flying with surprising speed towards it unaware targets back.

Only to hit the tree he was leaning against a foot above his head and to the side.

"Ooh, so close"

Apparently alerted by the dart hitting the tree Chael instantly spun around and looked directly at her, at the pipe in her hands, then at the dart in the tree before turning back to her, this time with a deep glare aimed her way. Realising anything other than fighting at this point was useless Madeline dropped the pipe back into her pack and picked up her Tomahawk, ready for whatever Chael and the other girl brought her way.


	25. Twenty Second Hour 34 Students Remaining

Author's Note: Sorry for the wait, this is probably the longest I've gone between chapters. I've had exams to study for and take over the last month and while I tried to get this chapter out before then it didn't work out that way - obviously; still, this chapter turned out to be much longer than I thought it would which is a plus. Just to warn you though, I am posting this without proof reading it to get it out faster, I'll try to update it with a less error filled version later.

Twenty Second Hour – 34 Students Remaining

"Can you at least promise me that you won't attack anyone unless attacked first, at least not while I'm around?"

"…Sure"

This answer seemed to satisfy her for the moment and for a while both Trina Nichols, a.k.a. G12, and Chael Tovaras, a.k.a. B8, sat together in companionable silence. After maybe twenty minutes the lack of sound was starting to get to Chael, however just as he was about to open his mouth to say something he felt as much as heard something embed itself in the tree he was leaning against.

Fearing that they had been discovered and were now being shot at, Chael spun around to where he guessed the shooter to be. It didn't take him long to spot the person as being the one thing in the forest before him that was not either green or brown and, despite not mentioning her to Trina earlier, he was not at all surprised to see that the one playing the game and attacking them was G13, a.k.a. Madeline Scott; what did take him by surprise however was the fact that she seemed to be carrying a wooden pipe rather than a gun, something that he confirmed when he turned to face the tree next to him and saw not a neat little bullet hole, but instead a dart sticking out from the wood.

She was shooting darts at them. From a pipe. Really?

Turning back Chael could see that Trina had now spotted Madeline, who was now holding an unusual looking axe in one hand, as well and was looking worried. Good, if she was already afraid it would be easier to get her to run; he just hoped her sentimentality wouldn't make her want to stay with him.

"Trina, you need to run, I'll handle this you but you can't stay here", the simultaneously shocked, scared and annoyed look she shot him told him that it wasn't to be as simple as that however.

"You have broken ribs; I can't just leave you here"

A quick glance in the other direction showed that Madeline was only slightly closer to them now; apparently she was taking her time closing the distance for some reason. How kind of her to give him time to deal with Trina first. "Bruised, and I hardly even feel them anymore. Listen, I can deal with this easier if I don't have to worry about you getting hurt in the process. Just leave now, go to the Warehouse like we planned and I'll meet up with you again later, ok?"

"Besides, you made me promise not to hurt anyone in front of you remember?"

It was a few seconds before anything else was said, with Trina looking back and forth between him and Madeline with a concerned expression before she finally seemed to give up. "Fine, just be careful ok?"

Nodding, Chael turned around to face Madeline again as he heard Trina's footsteps retreating into the distance. He was surprised to find that while he wasn't paying attention Madeline had managed to get within ten feet of him and was currently leaning casually against a tree.

"She didn't seem to hesitate too much about leaving you all alone and you seemed pretty eager to get rid of her. You two having problems?" There was a teasing edge to her voice that was all too familiar to him that he tried not to let get to him. It didn't work very well.

"She's not a part of this; this is just between you and me"

"Ha ha, so dramatic. You sure you just didn't want your girlfriend to find out there is a 'you and me'?"

"There was", _and I've regretted it ever since._

"Aww, come on now, you can't tell me we didn't have some good times"

"…We did", _before you changed._

The park was cold at this time of night, the street lamp only giving enough light to barely illuminate the shivering figure sat on the bench further down the footpath. Madeline Scott pulled the duffel bag which now contained all of her worldly possessions tighter against her body to gain some semblance of warmth as well as to try and ease the sense of uneasiness she had.

What was she even doing out here; alone, at night, in a strange part of town with nothing but a few changes of clothes, some personal items and whatever money she had managed to save up over the years. All because of one more fight with her father. When she thought back she couldn't even remember why she had been saving up so much money, always saying that the moderately sized pile of money was 'for something special'; it was almost like she new she would be doing this sometime down the line.

If that was the case though she'd have expected herself to have a plan, some idea of where to go after the whole running away from home part, and not just to run until she got tired and needed to rest and had no idea where she was and no idea where she was going. Leaving town crossed her mind a couple of times, just get on a bus or train to somewhere far away and start anew? But she didn't want to leave, not really, she just wanted to disappear for a time and not have to deal with her father again, at least not for a while.

She sat on that bench in uncomfortable silence for less than a minute before she suddenly shot up to a standing position. This was stupid, where was she going to run to? Was she just going to just leave her entire life behind? And why; because she had a fight with her father, because he got angry and yelled at her? He'd be even angrier if he found out she had run away, even more so if she ended up just returning home a few hours later. Better to just go back now before anything could happen.

"Hey. What are you doing out here?"

Like somebody finding her. There was a slight, harsh tone in the voice and she wasn't sure if she should hope that it was somebody she didn't know or somebody she did; all of a sudden various images of what could happen to a 15 year old girl alone in a park at night came to mind. Nervously, Madeline turned towards the source of the voice expecting to see some stereotypically shady character; instead what she got was the sight of a very familiar boy around her age. Chael something-or-other; not somebody see actively knew, just somebody she knew from school as always getting in trouble and somebody who Penelope – and inevitably herself – would end up picking on sometimes as being worse off than them. God she hated that girl sometimes.

Chael looked annoyed at the fact that she wasn't answering him; or maybe he just looked annoyed all the time, she could never tell with him. Either way she had already locked eyes with him and he was now walking towards her, no chance to get away now she would just have to stick it out. Maybe he wouldn't have any hard feeling towards her? I mean it was mostly Penelope anyway. Maybe he was just genuinely curious about why she was out so late?

"I said, 'why are you out so late'. Did the princess get lost on her way home?"

Ok, maybe there were some hard feelings. She turned around to look down the path away from Chael; the park was as empty as ever except for the two of them, she could probably just walk away right now, it might be rude but it wasn't like his opinion could get much worse. Of course, the nagging question of 'go where' was still on her mind; escaping the immediate situation wouldn't help her in the long run and by now Chael had taken a seat on the bench she had just vacated and was examining her with a curious expression.

"What's with the bag? Going somewhere?"

Startled by the question Madeline clutched the bag tight to her chest again, thereby giving away its importance. "No, it's nothing"

"Packed bag, nervous look, this far from home; if I didn't know any better I'd say you were running off somewhere"

Madeline cringed at the surprisingly accurate statement; she could tell that it meant to just be a joke, something ridiculous from his point of view, but it hit closer to the truth than she liked.

"… You are aren't you; you're running away from home? Why? Your families rich, you have everything you could want, why would you run away from that?" There was a hint of laughter under Chael's voice that grew stronger with each word until he was letting out little chuckles with each syllable. This reaction both shamed and infuriated her; what did he know about her life, how could he judge her if she wanted to run away from everything?

In a whisper, barely audible, Madeline couldn't help but retort. "You don't know what you're talking about"

"Don't I?" Apparently she wasn't as quiet as she thought, or Chael had good hearing. "Why don't you explain it to me then?"

"You wouldn't –"

"– Wouldn't understand? A bit cliché, don't you think? But you're right, I don't understand what could make somebody give up a life like that"

Madeline held her tongue lest she say something foolish here and give away more than she wanted to; she just knew that if he goaded her into saying something it would all come pouring out.

"I'm asking though, why would you run away? I admit I don't know much about your personal life; but I've seen the expensive clothes you wear. I've seen the luxury car pull up at school each morning, always the newest model, your family even upgrades a couple times a year. What could possibly be so bad about your life?"

That was enough for Madeline and with a surprising amount of aggression she spun around to face the bench and threw her bag next to Chael; he even looked a little surprised himself.

"Fine, you want to know about my life? I have no life, I have no freedom. Every part of my life is decided by my father. My mother left when I was still a child and since then my dad just stopped trying to be a parent, like he'd only been pretending to care as long as she was around. As soon as she was gone he started treating my like one of his employees, ordering me around, dictating every little detail of my life. He even controls what friends I have; you think I want to spend time with that bitch Penelope? I only put up with her because my father wanted to do business with her father and getting us to be friends when we were younger was a way to introduce himself"

Other than the initial shock over her reaction Chael didn't seem that impressed by her 'sob story' so far. "So you have an overly controlling father, so what"

"He's never happy with anything I do; it's never good enough for him. I get anything less than perfect on a test and I get told I should have done better. Less than an A and I can expect lectures and yelling, lots of yelling, about how I'm not studying enough, followed by being literally locked in my room until I've read through every text book I own. Sometimes it takes a couple days before I can come back out if the grade was bad enough. He never says anything if I do something perfect, but he has no problem punishing me if I do less that what he expects"

Madeline seemed to be losing steam at this point, sounding less angry with each word and sadder, becoming quieter and more incoherent until Chael had to strain to hear what she was saying. "I was off sick for a week once; I missed a few important classes and couldn't get anyone to give me the notes. I tried my best on the next test but only got a D. He actually hit me for that, hard as well; I bit clean through my tongue and needed stitches at the hospital"

Now feeling more tired than anything Madeline turned and sat down on the bench with her bag in between her and Chael. She looked down at her hands while she continued speaking, not wanting to look and see his reaction until she was finished.

"I realise it's not as bad as what some people have to go through, he's not really abusive he just has unrealistically high expectations and criticizes me when I don't meet them"

"If he's not that bad then why are you running away?"

That left Madeline fumbling for an answer, not because she didn't know but because her instinctive reaction to defend her father was at war with what she actually wanted to say. "Because, well… that's not…"

"Not what?"

"…I'm afraid of him"

Chael had had his mouth open like he was expecting an answer he could give another retort to, apparently he had been disappointed because he just closed it awkwardly after a second and continued to look thoughtfully at Madeline like he was waiting for her to continue.

"I'm afraid of what he'll do to me if I ever… fail, I guess. If he hits me for one D what will he do if I get an F, or fail a course, or drop out? I've tried to be his perfect little girl, doing everything he says and meeting all of his unrealistic goals for so long that I just can't keep it up anymore. I'm going to slip soon I just know it and I'm… terrified of what he'll do when it happens"

Madeline pulled her knees up to her chest and placed her feet on the bench, wrapping her arms around her legs both to shield herself from the cold and to hide the fact that hot tears were making their way down her face now.

An awkward silence hung in the air for a few moments before either person on the bench made another move but it was Chael who finally broke it, standing up from the bench to stand in front of Madeline. "Do you feel better now?"

"What?" Madeline couldn't help but raise her head at that, any attempt at hiding her tears forgotten in the face of that completely unexpected question.

Chael met her gaze solidly before asking again. "Now that you got that off your chest, do you feel better?"

"… A little bit, hmph, yeah now that you mention it"

"You shouldn't run away from home, it's a big thing to do; do you even have anywhere to go? It's not going to help you in the long run, but you definitely need some time away from that situation. Just spend some time away from home for tonight, blow off some steam, then go home; after that you can decide to stick it out or run away again but this time you could plan it out a little better"

Madeline looked back up at him confused, the idea that she would need to go back home after all this pushed aside for now to focus on other things. "Blow off steam?"

"Like you just did telling me all that, you said you felt better right? You need an outlet, a way to relieve all that stress before it makes you do something reckless, like this for instance. Maybe you just need someone to talk to but personally I think you need to have some fun for once as well"

"And what exactly is your idea of fun?"

"I'll show you", Chael held out his hand to Madeline to help her up though taking it would also mean she was willing to go with him afterwards. Madeline considered it for a second but it wasn't like she had much choice anyway; she had come this far she might as well see what he had to show her before sneaking back home. She reached up to take his hand and felt his fingers close around hers before she felt a weight tugging on her arm and she felt herself being lifted from the bench.

Chael still remembered that night rather clearly since it was first time he had actually seen Madeline as an actual person, as something more than just 'that bitch who insults me from time to time'. For all his talk of showing her a good time they ended up talking about things more along with just spending time together, it was surprisingly nice.

From what Madeline told him a couple of days later she had made it home a couple of hours before her father woke up and he never suspected a thing, thankfully. The incident seemed to have helped her a lot as well, not just the chance to share her burdens but also the fact that, having gotten away scot free, she began to see her father less as the all powerful being he seemed to be in her life and more like an ordinary, fallible person. It made him just a little less scary in her eyes.

Things had developed between the two of them since them even becoming what could be described as a 'fling' at times; they met every weekend, in secret of course, and occasionally during the week as well when they could find excuses to do so. Madeline got somebody she could be herself around and Chael got another friend; it was good for them, while it lasted.

The problem was the more time Madeline spent with Chael the less fearful and excusatory of her father behaviour she became, she stopped being afraid of what her father might do to her and instead of yearning for his approval she began to get angry about what he had done to her instead.

Her feeling before gave way for anger, resentment and even hate towards him and since she couldn't act out any of these new emotions at home they began exhibiting themselves in other aspects of her life. It wasn't much fun being her friend – and inevitable recipient of her anger – after that point. Of course, breaking things off with her didn't exactly make things better.

"This isn't a very good time to be spacing out you know"

Focusing back on the here and now Chael took a closer look at the Madeline standing before him. So different to the young girl sitting on the park bench; taller, broader, more… mature, in places. She was on a higher section of ground as well which only added to the effect, but mostly it was the change in attitude which made the girl in front of him almost unrecognisable compared to his memory of that night.

"I'm serious; you don't know what kind of psychos might be lurking around here. You should try to be more aware of your surroundings"

The confidence in the way she held herself, the coy smile and the dangerous glimmer in her eyes. The bloodied axe was a nice touch as well. With a sigh Chael slid the heavy metal pipe wrench down his arm into his hand, feeling the weight of it settle fully into his palm as he tightened his grip on the handle. "We really have to do this don't we? There's no other way this can go down is there?"

"You're catching on. But be honest…" Madeline did the same with her axe, her grip slipping from up near the axe head to right down at the end, letting Chael see the full length of the weapon for the first time; seemed like she would have the reach advantage in this fight. "… did you expect it to go any other way?"

"No, I guess – woah", Chael leant aside just as Madeline jumped from her perch to close the distance between them and swung her axe diagonally down towards his skull. The blade missed his head, shoulder and then body by a smaller margin each time and he took a couple steps to the side just to get some more distance between the two of them.

Madeline twisted her wrist so that her weapon was held horizontally instead of straight out in front and swept it sideways towards the retreating Chael; he swung his own heavier weapon up to meet it, using his superior strength to deflect the strike and send it back the other way, knocking Madeline off balance. He swung the wrench up, aiming a strike at the underside of her chin only for her to pull he head back at the last second.

Madeline tried to take advantage of Chael's momentary unbalance and charged forward, swinging her tomahawk hard at his exposed side. Hopefully even if the relatively untested blade didn't do much she could still do a fair amount of damage from the impact alone. She only had a moment to be shocked as instead of being hit he simply stepped forward and clamped her arm between his own arm and his side, only a moment because that was just how long it took for him to raise his knee and slam it into her stomach.

He released her arm and she staggered back in pain, regaining her senses just in time to duck another swing at her head from the pipe wrench, this time aimed at her temple. As she did so she couldn't help but think that she shouldn't have been able to do that; if he wanted to Chael could have swung sooner and he could have swung faster, but he didn't. The other swing as well, at her jaw, that was slower than what he should have been able to do as well.

He was holding back, he didn't want to hurt her and he wasn't fighting as well as he could because of that. He was going easy on her, taking pity on her, treating her like that same little girl she was when they first met and she hated that. She had changed a lot since then, something he had witnessed – hell, something he contributed to – and she would be damned if she let him forget it.

"You're holding back. Don't insult me by thinking you can go easy on me", she rushed forward again, swinging the axe with both hands upwards from the right. Chael leant back like she had before and the blade whistled past harmlessly while Madeline almost pitched back from the momentum she put into that swing. He didn't even try to hit her even though she was wide open to an attack. "Don't hold back, I'll kill you if you do!"

"I don't want to fight you, I don't want to hurt you Maddie just–"

She charged again, swinging the axe wildly as hard as she could at any part of Chael that she could reach while he just stepped back and blocked or deflected each swing with his wrench with aggravating ease. Madeline's attack became more and more frantic with each failed attempt and she was now just hammering away at Chael with overhead strikes from both hands while he continued to back away and stop each hit with the solid bar of his wrench between two hands.

The sequence was finally broken when the uneven ground of the forest finally managed to play a part in the fight and Chael stumbled uneasily over an exposed tree root. The near fall was enough to make him lower his arms slight and allow Madeline enough access to get a hit in with the hammer side of the tomahawk. The narrow metal stub cracked down on Chael shoulder sending a searing burst of pain through the muscles around the joint and a tingling sensation all down his left arm.

The axe bounced back from the hit, allowing Madeline to easily flow into the next attack this one coming in horizontally and aimed at the hand holding the pipe wrench. The hammer side of the tomahawk cracked painfully into Chael's wrist with an audible pop coming from the joint as the hand involuntarily let go of the wrench and let it tumble to the ground; or at least it would have if Madeline hadn't managed to catch it with a light kick which sent the weapon flying away several feet.

Madeline watched as the heavy metal object sailed away before turning back to face the injured and panting Chael. "Told you not to underestimate me. Now I'm going to kill you and just for that insult I'm going to go after your girlfriend as well. I think it's only fair she get to know what kind of history we used to have before - Oof"

Stopping to gloat turned out to be a very unwise idea as the previously disabled Chael surged forward with a sudden burst of energy and tackled Madeline to the ground, ramming his uninjured shoulder into her midsection and knocked the wind out of her.

She crashed into the ground with the much heavier Chael soon following on top of her and a scramble began to secure their positions in the results grapple with Madeline ending up decidedly worse off. Madeline lay on her back with Chael looming over her and holding both of her arms down on either side of her head. His injured left wrist seemed to be twitching slightly on her arm but the hold on that arm was strong, not so much gripping her arm and just pressed it down into the ground with her arm. The right arm was not fairing as well, the grip strong but the injured shoulder failing to put any pressure at all into the hold.

"Why are you attacking me Maddie? Why, I never did anything to you!"

"You left me! You fucking bastard you left me! You changed me, you made me a different person and then when you didn't like the new me you fucking abandoned me when I still needed you"

Chael froze up for a second as the truth that Madeline didn't want to reveal slipped out. Madeline tugged hard with her right arm, trying to break Chael's grip so that she could have a free arm to fight back with. Chael tried to keep her arm pinned, not relenting in his grip on her wrist but being unable to keep her arm pressed to the ground; eventually Madeline was able to twist his wrist in such a way as to make him loosen his hold on her and finally pull her arm free from him and immediate set about slamming a fist into whatever part of him he could reach to get the rest of him off her as well.

"Maddie, I'm sorry, I made the wrong decision I'm sorry. Maddie just stop"

"I'm not your Maddie anymore. I told you not to call me that anymore you bastard!"

Her efforts were weak though, her arms tired from swinging the axe around so much and the toll of almost a full day without sleep and the effect of far too many painful remembrances finally taking effect on her body. She didn't find success in making Chael even so much as flinch until her fist connected with the left side of his body, Chael sucking in breath through gritted teeth and wincing as her fist banged against his ribs.

Wondering as to why this might be Madeline found herself flashing back to when they had all woken up in the mess hall at the start of this nightmare. She remembered quite vividly when they had been told what they were supposed to do as well as Barret's 'demonstration' of their collars, but one detailed she had forgotten out until now was when Chael has recklessly tried to attack Barret. He had been hit in the ribs back then and based from Chael's reaction just now and the slight tenderness Madeline could feel in that area even through his hooded sweatshirt he had been hurt more than she though.

Chael replaced his right arm now over her neck, forgoing the hand and just pressing his forearm down on her throat, using his weight to try and hold her down despite his injured shoulder. Even with the pressure nearly choking her however, Madeline smiled as she realised she had found the weakness that would let her win this fight. She reached out with her hand and began feeling around on the ground for something, anything to use as a weapon and as her fingers brushed over the course surface she knew she had found it.

"Maddie" Madeline please just stop for a sec – ahh! Stop!"

She grabbed hold of the object and swung it hard into Chael's side, the boy emitting something between a howl and a scream as the rock slammed into his already fragile ribs, possibly breaking them where Barret's boot had failed.

Madeline found the grip on her arm and throat loosening and quickly pushed the heavier boy off of her and rolled him onto his side where his hands immediately moved to his injured side, apparently forgetting that he was still in danger at this point. With Chael no longer pinning her down she was now free to scramble over to where her axe had landed in the grass and pick it up. She stood up quickly and turned around to see that Chael was still lying in the grass, clutching his side and breathing heavily.

He struck a rather pitiful site compared to how he looked normally; weakened, in pain and slightly pale. Madeline might even have felt some remorse over reducing him to this state had she felt inclined. As it was she instead just strode purposefully over where the boy lay and stomped on his side again.

"Are you going to stay down this time? No more little surprises? Good, now stay still", Madeline raised the tomahawk over her shoulder with both hands and brought it down on the suddenly terrified looking Chael. The boy tired to squirm out of the way and muster some last defence, but all he managed to do was bring an arm up to take the hit from the weapon rather than his neck. A second hit was stopped in the same way, the blade digging deep into flesh, both times cutting down and into bone while blood began leaking from the wide gashes being opened up in the boys forearm which were becoming more numerous with each swing.

Chael's voice was a pleading screech now, almost unrecognisable as that of the normally so calm and stoic brooding teenager he was only a few hours ago. "Maddie please stop! Oh God Maddie stop!"

Madeline ignored him and instead just kicked his now useless arm aside and swung the axe one last time at his neck. The blade sank easily through the flesh and tendons before stopping as it reached the spine; blood left the wound in spurts which became more violent as the axe was pulled free to give the liquid more room to move through.

Madeline backed away several shaky steps before dropping her weapon to the ground and tripping over an exposed tree root to fall against the trunk, sinking down to sit at its base while facing directly towards the now dead Chael. Tears worked their way unbidden down her cheeks; it was supposed to be easier than that, like with Penelope. Just attack him, kill him, get her revenge and just leave. She wasn't supposed to feel anything afterwards; she didn't before, why now? That bastard, he was always good at making her feel things she didn't want to.


	26. Twenty Third Hour 33 Students Remaining

Author's Note: Another non-proof read chapter I'm afraid. Still haven't gone back to check the last one actually. Anyway, I was meaning to at least finish the first day before doing this, but I need to take a break from this story for a while. I need to put some serious time into planning out the rest of this story since everything past the next announcement is pretty sketchy. Hopefully I'll be able to get chapters out faster because of this, but you probably won't be seeing a new one for a while.

Twenty Third Hour – 33 Students Remaining

The Clinic was unnaturally silent. The kind of silent that presses in on the ears and makes you slightly paranoid, as it was currently doing to the girl standing against the front door while peering through the gaps in the wooden boards to look outside. Amber Woods, a.k.a. G15, was currently on guard duty for the clinic group while the others slept and being practically alone in a dark building that was up until a couple of hours ago alive with the sound of people was beginning to get to her. Still, only another hour till the next announcement then it switched over to Sandra's turn and she could get some sleep of her own as well as hand the Mac-10 back over to the other girl.

Well, she said she was alone but that wasn't quite true. Deciding to forego her alloted sleep time Alice Young, a.k.a. G9, was sitting on the sill of the window behind and to the side of the receptionists counter. She could afford do that if she wanted as far as amber was concerned, nobody trusted her enough to stand guard by herself so her getting enough rest to be alert when the time came wasn't an issue, but the way she had been sitting unmoving on that ledge for the past two or three hours was unnerving.

In fact Amber had been growing increasingly uncomfortable around the smaller girl over the past few hours after she had mysteriously broken her long silence to give out some somewhat cryptic advice as soon as they were alone, only to immediately stop talking the second someone walked into the room. She had not said a word since, going back to her reclusive and silent self leaving Amber to wonder if the confusing conversation had happened at all.

Nevertheless she had done her best to follow the advice – to supplant Brianna as leader of the group for everyone's sake – trying her best to argue back whenever Brianna gave an order or made a suggestion that she didn't think was for the best. Most of the time she won through being able to argue her case better and for the most part the other two members of the group went along with what she said, with the side effect of making Brianna even more hostile and aggressive at having her chance to finally lead the group ruined by her suddenly more outspoken friend.

Several thoughts about the situation swam through Amber's mind; more short sighted questions like why it was her who was chosen to be the groups designated leader, to why Alice cared in the first place, up to more interesting ones like why Alice only spoke to her and only when no-one else saw her speak?

Finally her curiosity got the better of her and Amber walked over to where Alice was sitting and leaned against the desk, allowing her to look Alice right in the face if she turned her head towards her.

"Hey, can we talk?"

Alice took a second to acknowledge her but then turned to face her; she stared passively at Amber for a few seconds more in a slightly unsettling manner before nodding.

"I've been trying to do what you told me to do", if Alice had any reaction to these words she didn't show it, just continued to stare blankly at Amber as if waiting for her to reach the point. "It's not working, Sandra listens most of the time but I still have to fight Brianna at every decision. She's just getting madder and madder at me, she might leave the group and that's exactly what you wanted to avoid"

"What I wanted to avoid was the complete breakdown or destruction of this group, one person leaving does not make much of a difference in regards to that. In fact, it might be conducive towards this group's survival if the main source of conflict was to leave", Alice paused as this point, giving Amber time to take in what was just said which she suspected was the reason for the break. "If you don't want it to happen just let her have a victory every now and then; start to argue, then give up. It will keep her happy; just make sure that you win the important victories"

Amber stopped a moment to consider that while Alice just continued to stare at her, obviously expecting more questions to follow; it was a sound suggestion overall, letting Brianna think she had bested her every now and then would keep her happy overall, though her anger would spike anytime she lost. Plus if she was honest that much arguing was starting to wear Amber down. All in all, a good idea, one she could have used hours ago; a fact that Amber was about to question her on just that fact when she remembered that they had not had a chance to be alone together since that first time, which brought up another question.

"Why won't you speak when anyone else is around? Why just me?"

"The others didn't need to hear what I had to say to you. Hearing it would just have complicated things and made it harder for you to wrestle control of the group away from Brianna, with her or Sandra aware of your intentions", the answer was a prompt as ever, with barely any hesitation between the question being asked and the answer being given. Did Alice already expect all of the questions being sent her way or was she just that quick a thinker? Either way the implications suggested the girl was a lot smarter than Amber initially gave her credit for.

She considered asking why she was chosen to be the designated leader next, but stopped when she realised she could figure that one out by herself; Brianna, as Alice stated isn't the smartest person or the best leader, Sandra just doesn't want to lead and Alice is an outsider. She was simply the only option left. Instead she decided to ask her something that had been bugging her for a while.

"So, why did you really kill Edward?" Considering the entire reason behind Amber arguing to bring the 'traumatised' Alice along with them had been based on the idea she had only killed the boy in self defence, it was a rather important question.

"Self preservation"

"So it really was self defence? That's good at least; I don't think I could ever kill someone like that though", Amber leaned against the counter, crossing her arms on the surface and resting her chin on top of them.

Alice turned her head down to follow her with her eyes; it might have been Amber's imagination but she seemed to actually be looking into her eyes now, rather than just in her direction. "It was quite simple really; he made it easy for me"

Before Amber could spend too much time wondering what that meant, there was a sudden banging at the front door that nearly scared her right out of her skin. The girl spun around to face the boarded up entrance with Sandra's submachine gun in hand; it was a good thing her finger was nowhere near the trigger or else she might not have been able to hold back from just riddling the door with bullets in shock. It was too dark both inside and outside to see who it was, but from the silhouette on the other side of the window it was clearly a person. Another set of bangs made Amber jump again before she began to walk across the room.

Daniel Lancaster, a.k.a. B9, knocked on the door to the hospital for the second time, before going back to impatiently waiting for someone to answer it. He was feeling incredibly exposed out here like this and wanted to just get inside as quickly as possible; he would have just walked right in but the wooden boards he could see crossing over the doorway through the window and the fact that Samantha had told him hours ago that somebody had already claimed this place told him that it probably wouldn't work out too well.

Then again, banging on the door of a building in the middle of the night when the occupant may or may not be armed and may or may not be killers probably wouldn't work out to well either, something that became quite apparent when the barrel of a gun was pressed up against the window between a gap in two boards at face level.

Jumping back from the door at the sudden threat, Daniel threw up his hands in a placating gesture. "Woah, don't shoot, don't shoot"

A decidedly feminine voice shouted through the door in response, slightly muffled from having to come through the door but still intelligible. "What are you doing here?"

Running might be a good idea right now, but for whatever reason it never occurred to Daniel that standing in front of a gun answering questions might be a bad idea, or even that stepping out of her line of fire while answering those questions might be a smart one. "I just wanted to see if this place had any medicine left. Maybe find a safe place to stay for the night"

There was a pause from the other side – though he thought he might have heard some hushed whispers – before the voice spoke again. "What weapon do you have?"

"Urm", Daniel carefully reached for his pocket, moving as slowly as possible as to not cause the person on the other end of that gun barrel to have any reason to pull the trigger. He pulled the broken, plastic lightsaber free from his pocket and held it up where it could hopefully be seen. "Just this plastic toy, it's broken as well, I don't have anything that can be called a weapon on me"

There as another silence after this – and more whispers – while Daniel was left standing there worrying about what would happen to him next. Then, after what seemed like several agonising minutes, the lock clicked, the handle turned and the door creaked open.

Amber bent down and peered through the wooden boards at the person outside, the dark making it hard to see who it was exactly but she got a good enough look to tell it was a boy, she could figure out the rest later. She stepped back and pressed the Mac-10 against the glass, hearing the person jump back and shout out in shock when they saw it.

"What are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to see if this place had any medicine left. Maybe find a safe place to stay for the night"

Amber turned her head to find that Alice had moved away from the window sill and was now standing right next to her, which was surprising since she hadn't heard a thing; she must have been pretty light on her feet. She couldn't see anything wrong with what the boy was saying, finding a place to sleep for the night seemed like a reasonable thing for someone to do. She turned back to Alice and began a whispered conversation with her about what she should do.

"What do you think?"

"About what? Don't tell me you are actually considering letting him in here?"

"Why not?"

"Do you need a reminder of the situation we currently find ourselves in? Or would a simple 'he might kill us' suffice?"

"I liked you better when you didn't talk, I didn't have to put up with sarcastic comments then. Besides, look at him, he's not a killer"

"You would have said the same thing about me"

That was something Amber couldn't ignore, if only because of the awkward tension it created. Amber turned slowly back to the door to see the guy still standing out there; the least she should do was ask him some more questions before letting a stranger into their sanctuary. "What weapon do you have?"

The figure reached for his pocket and Amber tensed up, finger pressing lightly against the trigger and steadying the gun against her shoulder before relaxing; wait and see what he was getting before doing anything rash. He pulled out something Amber couldn't see in the darkness, but it clearly wasn't a gun like she had feared. "Just this plastic toy, it's broken as well, I don't have anything that can be called a weapon on me"

Amber sighed in relief before turning back to Alice who still wore the same blank, impossible to read expression. "… I'm letting him in", while boarded up, the front door to the clinic was not sealed by anything more than its standard lock, the wooden boards only covering the window; if things went bad and they needed to get out quickly they didn't want to be prying boards loose to do so. However when Amber reached for the door handle she was surprised when Alice reached out and grabbed her wrist; the small girl had never done anything physical during the entire time they had been together, never so much as brushing against one of them. It was the shock of the contact that stopped Amber as much as anything else; if she wanted to she could easily over power the smaller girl.

"Don't. You can't gamble the safety of the group on the hope that he's a good guy"

Amber wrenched her arm free from Alice's grip and placed it back on the handle, ready to click the lock open and let the boy in. "I'm not leaving him out there on the chance he might be a bad guy"

The door swung open before Alice could do anything else, revealing the figure behind it. With an unobstructed view Amber could now see who it was she had just let in and to her immense relief it was somebody she recognised; Daniel Lancaster, and true enough the little plastic sword was in his hand. He was safe, he was the definition of harmless; wasn't he supposed to be trained in first aid or something? She remembered an incident at school a couple years ago when somebody had an accident at school, a pretty serious one, and Daniel had helped them out with first aid until the ambulance got there; it was pretty impressive the way the normally shy boy took control of the situation like that, it was striking to see that side of him. It made sense he would come to the hospital of all places now.

"Oh, Daniel, it's you", out of the corner of her eye and out of sight of Daniel, amber saw Alice shake her head in disappointment before slinking off silently to the side of the room, apparently she was going back to not speaking and wanted to act like she hadn't been there with her when the door opened. "Oh er, come on in"

Daniel stepped through the door and moved aside to allow Amber to quickly close it after him, clicking the lock after doing so. He continued to stand there as if unsure of what to do now that he was actually inside while his eyes darted all around the room, taking in all the details of the small hospitals waiting room; his eyes stopped over Alice sitting down on one of the benches, looking more like a patient waiting for her turn than a contestant in a death sport, before continuing around the room. "Is it just you two here?"

"No, Brianna and Sandra are both sleeping in the back. There's a whole ward full of beds back there", now that she thought about it, how would her friends react when they woke up and found somebody some guy here. Sandra might be ok with it, so long as he wasn't a threat, but Brianna was going to freak out, that was a certainty. Maybe Amber could just not wake Sandra up for her shift in a couple of hours, that would at least give her some time to work something out, or maybe Daniel would be gone altogether by then.

Daniel seemed to get a little more nervous at the mention of two extra people, or maybe it was just the people she named; Jennifer and Brianna did tend to pick on a lot of people back in school, it was something Amber mostly tried to ignore and stay out of but it was possibly Daniel was one of there targets. As she looked at him closer she began to notice something that she hadn't earlier, he face was practically covered in little cuts, including a couple of larger ones which still seemed to be seeping a little fresh blood on top of the dried blood already present; basically he was a mess.

"Are you ok? What happened to you?"

Daniel reached up and wiped some of the blood from his face, looking at the red smears on his hand as if he had forgotten all about his injuries. "Oh, those; they are the result of a very close call that I'd rather not get into right now. They are only shallow cuts and scrapes, nothing to worry about; I might need to stitch some of the larger wounds up later but I'll let them stop bleeding on their own first. I wouldn't mind a chance to wash the blood off though, or a place to sleep for the night for that matter?"

"Oh, right; the bathroom is back there, on the right at the end of the corridor. After that you can just go into the back room and take any of the beds, we have plenty"

Daniel nodded his thanks and walked away, Amber waiting until she heard the door to the bathroom close behind him before moving and finding Alice already standing up to walk over to her. The smaller girl got close enough to whisper without being heard and opened to speak when Amber cut her off. "I know, I know, I didn't something stupid"

"It will be worse when the others wake up. How do you think they will react?"

Amber cringed at the thought, even though it had already occurred to her earlier. "Badly. I've already decided to let Sandra sleep through her shift to give me more time to think, but they will find out eventually I'm just glad they don't have any weapons back there"

Trina Nichols, a.k.a. G12, had started out Chael had said, i.e. at a full sprint away from Madeline and anywhere she might have been. As she got father away and became more convinced she wasn't being followed however, this slowed down to a jog, then a fast walk, and now she was barely keeping her normal walking pace while trying not to trip over any wayward tree roots with her tired and lazy feet.

She kicked a rock and sent it skipping across the ground to hit against the trunk of a tree, her mind going back to the event that had set off her trip through the forest in the first place. That girl, Madeline, comes across her and Chael in the forest and attacks them looking for a fight and Chael tells her to leave; and for the life of her she couldn't figure out why her sent her away.

It was true he had done it before, back home; he never like her to see him fight, Chael knowing that she hated seeing violence of any kind. Normally he tried to avoid trouble while she was around but some people wouldn't allow it so he always sent her away; but those same rules didn't really apply any more, it wasn't safe to be alone like this and Chael should have tried to keep her nearby so that he could protect her like he had been doing all this time.

Unless of course, that's what he was doing, protecting her. The confusion and fear – mostly fear – of the situation was what kept her running so fast in the first place; as she had gotten farther away the fear had faded and now confusion had turned into curiousness. At first she thought that maybe there was more to the situation than she knew about, a strange jealous pang going through her at the thought, but now the fear was coming back. What if he sent her away because he was worried about what might happen if she stayed; what if he knew he couldn't win that fight – that he would die in that fight – and was worried she would be next?

She suddenly began to wonder if Chael was even alive right now. What if that girl had already killed Chael with that axe she saw her holding – Chael only had a pipe wrench after all – or what if she had a gun that she was hiding? Suddenly Trina got the sense that she was being followed, that Madeline would come chasing after her like Chael feared. She quickened her pace and was soon travelling at a brisk walk, then a jog, then back to running.

It was with great misfortune that when she was looking over her shoulder for imaginary threats that she bumped straight into a very real one, running straight into and bouncing off of the something solid.

"Ow"

Trina landed on the ground with a thud before looking up at what she had hit; if the fairly soft surface she had felt herself run into wasn't clue enough that she had hit something other than one of the many trees standing around then the pair of eyes staring back at her certainly were. The figure was difficult to make out in the relative lack of light so she couldn't tell who it was and she didn't give them a chance to identify themselves as, as soon as they opened their mouth to speak she began to scramble back from them before picking herself up and running away, maintaining just enough sense to run past them and continue the way she was going before; away from Madeline and away from whoever that person was as well.

Gerald Smith, a.k.a. B10, looked down at the girl in front of him, the one who had just come barrelling towards him while looking the wrong way and crashed into his chest. The force of the hit had nearly knocked him clean off his feet and probably would have if he hadn't seen her coming and planted his feet to catch the impact.

He had tried to catch her as well to avoid her taking a nasty fall but his reactions weren't quite quick enough. He opened his mouth to say something; to ask her what she was running from, to maybe say sorry for dropping her – even though she ran into him. Whatever he was going to say he was cut off by her scrambling away before taking off in a run in the opposite direction she had just come from. Yeah, definitely running from something.

Either way Gerald didn't want to wait around to find out. He peered into the forest in the direction that the girl had gone but could see nothing through the darkness that covered everything at this time of night. Speaking of which he really needed to get moving if he was going to find a place to stay before day light; who knew how long it would take to get anywhere in these conditions. Turning away in a direction that was neither where the girl had come from nor where she had run off to, he began to walk again.

He was a little surprised to see people still up at this hour other than himself, after all the entire point of walking around near midnight when any sensible person was asleep was to avoid said sensible people. After his less than pleasant encounter with Adrian at the lighthouse Gerald had decided to stop in at the cottage at the bottom of the hill on his way out and caught a couple hours sleep, giving his bruises time to heal and leaving him rested and ready for another few hours of travel.

Travel would be a lot simpler and quicker if he still had the truck he had hotwired earlier, but since the whole point of sneaking around at night was stealth and bringing along a big diesel engine troop transport wasn't very conducive to that. Besides, while it was a nice idea at first the truck was more impractical than anything; too big to get everywhere on the island, loud enough to let anyone know you were coming and that wasn't even starting to mention the maintenance issues of keeping it running.

The 'too loud' part had been proven when Adrian had actually come out to meet him upon his arrival at the Lighthouse; Adrian ended up just fighting him as he wanted anyway, but he could have waited in ambush if he really wanted to and that was enough of a wake up call for Gerald. He might go back and pick it up later on – the island was a large place after all – but right now he was better off without it.

Right now however? The trees were thinning, the undergrowth becoming sparser and unless he was mistaken, he could see a building coming up ahead. Pulling out the Taser he got as his starting weapon, Gerald lowered himself down into a crouch and started moving slower; hopefully anyone who was inside would be asleep like he intended, either way he wasn't going to be careless about this.

He patted his jacket pocket and could feel the knife he had taken from Adrian still there; hopefully he wouldn't need it but with this game it was better to be prepared for the possibility of having to kill someone. Gerald would use the Taser before the knife, but if he had to, he wouldn't hesitate.


End file.
